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LIB RARY OF CONGRESS, 

®(|a;iT.Zg2 n p ? ri g ^ tyt 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


















re 




harm broken 


BY 


L n O X m T l A vS IS A V , 


No. 52. 



DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO., Publishers, 

407-425 Dearborn St. y CHICAGO . 


learborn Series No. 52. Nov. 22, 1891. Issued Semi-Monthly. Subscription Price, $6.00 per year. 
Entered at Chicago P. O. as Second-Class Matter. 




“ Listen,” cried he, clasping her in his arms. “ Perhaps we can 
still be happy.” Page 92. 


The Charm Broken 


FROM THE FRENCH OF 

LEON be ’TINSEAU. 


IV I if' 

vc y j 

/ /v ^ y 

s (h* 

V TRANSLATED BY 

ft] \ t 

HETTIE E. MILLER. 

! 


CHICAGO: 

DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. 


"X 

\ ^ \ 


Copyright, 

by 

Donohue, Henneberry & Co. 


DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY, 
PRINTERS AND BINDERS, 
CHICAGO. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


I. 

Paul de Cherancy ascended the staircase very 
hastily, a staircase of the clumsy order, not one of 
those bright with gas, gilding and mirrors, without 
which the people of modern Paris can no longer be 
satisfied for the benefit of their visitors or them- 
selves. So much the worse for you if your staircase 
is not of the proper kind. What should be chiefly 
considered is the first impression, so think our 
architects. The world, thank God, will not end 
without having seen those eternal copyists invent 
something at last: the elegance of staircases. 

On the second floor Paul paused and, raising his 
hat, examined himself by the light of the large lan- 
tern. Our sex is more vain than the opposite sex 
supposes. 

Cherancy, although still young,was not, however, 
in the first bloom of youth; it was as if the varnish 
had disappeared from the furniture. But, without 
doubt, there was a special reason for taking such 
care of his appearance at that hour. 

Undoubtedly he was about to call upon a lady 
whom he desired to please ; men of worth, — and Cher- 
ancy seemed to be one, — believe that such a matter 
requires painstaking and that it is worth the trouble. 

3 


4 


THE CHARM BROKER. 


Masculine pictures are tiresome if they are not 
drawn by the hand of a master. I, therefore, will 
confine myself to saying that my hero, without be- 
ing taller, more handsome than a great many others 
had nothing which could prevent him from pleasing 
if he wished to. Perhaps a very youthful fiancee 
would have thought his manner for a man, of thirty 
years of age, too grave, but a mature woman would 
have fallen in love with his beautiful, intelligent, 
faithful eyes. So you see it was not a fiancee. 

Nine o’clock chimed. Paul opened his coat, satis- 
fied himself that the snow on the sidewalk which he 
had just crossed had left no spot on his boots, 
and, without calling in his eyes to aid his hand, he 
found the ivory button hidden beneath the folds of 
the sombre drapery. 

It was not, certainly, the first time nor even the 
second that Cherancy had rung at that door. 

It opened almost immediately. Without asking 
the usual question the visitor entered the ante- 
chamber where the skillful hands of a maid, dressed 
in black, with a respectful manner, relieved him of 
his furs. As he murmured a “ Thank you,” accompa- 
nied by a slight inclination of his head, an inside 
door was opened in front of him, and he found him- 
self in Nadia Fresnel’s small drawing-room. 

Once in the room, the grave expression on his face 
melted into a smile of extreme youth. His face 
glowed, bis eyes sparkled, and it was almost with 
boyish activity that he kneeled upon a cushion lying 
there as if by chance, the hypocrite! A hand, very 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


5 


white, rather plump, well cared for, without any 
hypocrisy, met half way the lips which sought it. 
Then followed a long kiss upon that hand, a kiss 
passionately tender and yet respectful. 

“When they told me that it was snowing so 
heavily,” began Mme. Fresnel, “I thought you 
would not come. I had already made up my mind 
to sacrifice my evening.” 

“ Indeed!” said Paul, looking at the hand which 
he still held in his, as if he were gazing at it for the 
first time. “ Did you ever know inclement weather 
to detain me ? ” 

“No, indeed! But, for four years — four years, 
Paul ! — we have not had such a winter. You have 
journeyed to the North Pole, my friend.” 

Her visitor was no longer on his knees. By his 
youthful movement he had made it difficult to leave 
gracefully a posture which he could not, under pen- 
alty of appearing absurd, maintain very long. Seated 
sidewise on the cushion, his arms resting on Nadia’s 
easy-cliair, lie replied : 

“ What did you say about the North Pole? It is 
quite the contrary! At this moment I feel the rap- 
ture of a Laplander who has suddenly fallen among 
the rose-bays of an Indian princess. Only think, 
I spent the afternoon in my studio, which was cold 
in spite of the blazing fire. I saw none but tiresome 
people; sensible ones do not go out in such weather. 
And by a lash of the whip, that is to say, by a shower 
of lashes on the back of a poor horse, here I am in 
your bonbonniere , where it smells so fragrant, where 


6 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


it is warm, where I find intelligence, affection, re- 
finement, charm .... you in short! You, 
Nadia, whom I love more and more in proportion 
as the days pass by. Dearest, do you remember the 
time when you would not believe that I should 
always love you ? Do you believe it now ? ” 

“I dare not; I am too superstitious. Not to 
doubt one’s happiness is to remove all sorrow. Time 
breaks the firmest bonds, separates those who think 
they can never part. And I, Paul, I have no other 
tie than my affection by which to hold you. I lose 
sight of you for hours at a time. Your life, the 
greater part of it, is spent away from me ! ” 

It might have seemed, at the first glance, that Na- 
dia Fresnel was an ordinary woman, if the woman 
capable of retaining for four years the passionate 
love of a man must not necessarily be the least or- 
dinary of her sex. 

She was certainly not possessed of that wondrous 
beauty which causes mortals to fall upon their knees, 
nor of that, more desirable perhaps, which makes 
them fall in love as into a snare decked with flowers. 
It oould not be said that she was very young for 
she was almost thirty. 

Fair, with gray eyes, the color of which did not 
remain the same for an hour at a time, she had too 
dead a skin for a blonde; but an exquisite mouth, 
and lips of cherry ripeness contrasted with that 
somewhat cold ensemble, in the manner of a tropical 
flower transplanted by chance beneath a Northern 
sky. She had inherited from her mother, a Russian, 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


7 


her wealth of pale golden hair, her blue-gray eyes, 
her odd name and the fantastic side of an unequally 
balanced disposition. From Baron de Montsuzain, 
her father, she had inherited the pure blood, the ex- 
cellent health, the generous and just spirit of an 
ancient Southern family. When she was not twelve 
years old — her mother was already dead — her father 
said of her : “ That child renders me as uneasy as a 
hot morning and a cloudy sky. I hope my future 
son-in-law will not be afraid of thunder.” 

What he should have hoped, before all, with 
regard to that unknown, who later on appeared in 
the seductive form of young Maxime Fresnel, a 
dandy of Bordeaux, would have been that he 
should fear the scorn of respectable people, and 
even certain rigid articles of the Code. Poor Nadia 
had only too much occasion to make use of her “ thun- 
der ” and also to shed copious floods of bitter tears. 
The first four years of her marriage were one long 
and cruel succession of all the disenchantments 
which can reach the heart and pride of a wife. 
Fortunately for her, Bordeaux had the advantage of 
being the port for a line of steamers to South Amer- 
ica. 

On a certain evening a passenger boarded the 
“ Patagonia , ” and at once sought his cabin in order 
to protect him from the cold, the enemy of delicate 
lungs. At about the same hour, Mme. Fresnel, to 
whom Maxime had not taken time to bid adieu, 
almost fainted with fear and shame on receiving a 
visit from two mysterious men^ho came from a 


8 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


place equally mysterious. They lost valuable time, 
or rather they gained it, searching the house from 
cellar to garret. The Fresnel family had influential 
connections, and the police did not wish to find the 
person they were apparently in search of. The 
“ Patagonia ” could steam down the river without any 
hindrance. Never since, have we heard the hand- 
some Maxime spoken of, except in connection with 
a very grave circumstance of which we shall speak 
in time. 

The first step that Nadia took, for she soon under- 
stood, as did everyone else, her lord and master’s 
sudden departure, was to obtain her separation. The 
second was to settle in Paris without any fortune, 
except her modest dowry ; for she would not allow 
her lawyer, the celebrated Lucien Sireuil, to ask for 
a sou for her. The absence of issue, too, simplified 
all. Even after having received her divorce, they 
could not persuade her to profit by it in order to re- 
sume her maiden name. 

“ To whom would it give pleasure ? ” she asked, 
“ not to the last of the Montsuzains certainly, — they 
would not care to be reminded of the mesalliance 
of one of their line, a mesalliance well punished ! 
With regard to myself as a Catholic, divorce is prac- 
tically naught. As a refined woman, it is repug- 
nant to me. I would rather have my gown spotted 
than dyed. At' the time that this story opens, 
Maxime Fresnel had been gone seven years, and it 
was almost six since Nadia, fleeing from the mem- 
ories of Bordeaux, had settled herself in her tiny 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


9 


apartments on Boulevard Saint Germain, which, 
everything included, did not cost her a thousand 
crowns a year. Rarely did a divorced woman plan 
her life in so praiseworthy a fashion. Served with- 
out luxury, but with irreproachable correctness, by 
two devoted maids, she enjoyed in her home a com- 
fort very often unkown to women twenty times as 
wealthy. 

As for her relations with the world, they betrayed 
none of the mystery of a woman who felt it incumb- 
ent upon her to hide herself, but the somewhat dis- 
dainful reserve of a person with a taste difficult to 
please. 

With the exception of a few distant relatives, 
scattered about in several old mansions, who saw 
the young woman often enough to show that they 
did not side against her, Nadia only possessed one 
relative with whom she held any intercourse, and 
she was a relative and a friend at one time ; for she 
found in Claire de Chalonne, her first cousin, all 
that one could look for in the most faithful of 
friends and the most affectionate of relatives. 

Unfortunately for Nadia, that affection could only 
be poured out through the medium of letters. Yery 
happily, very well married, the mother of a charm- 
ing little girl, one of the most popular ladies in her 
part of the country, Countess de Chalonne only 
came to Paris once a year, in the spring, and then 
but for a few weeks. In the autumn Mine. Fresnel 
returned her visit, and that was all. The remainder 
of the time they corresponded. 


10 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


On reaching Paris, Nadia had vowed to “ see no 
one,” a vow which all women in her situation make 
— I mean the best of them. In time, rendered less 
rigid by many hours of ennui and sadness, she 
broke her vow. She opened her door to two or 
three ladies whom she thought amusing and above 
reproach. On her side she had entered a few salons 
which were opened to receive her. Soon the poor, 
lonely woman became aware that it was necessary 
to stop. Here, there was not sufficient amusement ; 
there, there was too much. 

Nadia, out of all the places open to her, chose 
only one salon in which she appeared but rarely, and 
one friend whose house she never entered, but who 
was to be seen frequently at hers. The salon was 
that of the wife of General Sauteyron, one of those 
which seemed the least suitable for Mme. Fresnel. 
The friend was the wife of the architect, Lavissiere, 
a person quite wealthy and not without talent. In 
point of men, with the exception of Paul de Cher- 
ancy, only one came to see her regularly : I speak 
of Lucien Sireuil, the old lawyer, formerly her coun- 
sellor, now her friend, and whose intellect she valued 
as did all Paris. 

Poor Nadia ! you will sa} r . Socrates himself with 
so few friends could have thought himself very 
greatly to be pitied. 

Agreed ; but Nadia was no philosopher. She was 
a woman, a loving and tenderly -loved woman. 
Never, since she had known Paul de Cherancy, had 
the chambers of her heart seemed too large. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


11 


II. 

This was how they became acquainted. 

Four years before, Paul, returning from the 
Pyrenees, towards the middle of autumn, tarried 
longer than was prudent in the refreshment-room at 
Bordeaux. Suddenly he was informed that the train 
was about to start, carrying with it his luggage, his 
valise, his robes and even his hat, left upon the seat 
as a sign that it was occupied. 

Threatened with one of those catastrophes, the 
most vexatious which can overtake a traveler, Cher- 
ancy cleared the room at one bound. He leaped 
over a wall of empty wagons ; avoided, with the au- 
dacity of a toreador, the attack of an engine in mo- 
tion ; knocked a man down, and clung to a coach 
gliding past him, all in about twenty seconds. 

He opened the door of the compartment, tripped 
over a heap of skirts, and fell into, rather than 
seated himself, in the only vacant corner. Then he 
set about examining his three companions, who 
were all women. 

“ My God ! ” he exclaimed, with an accent of 
terror which was not feigned; “am I in the ladies’ 
coach ? ” 

Two of the occupants, a mother and daughter, 
reassured him at the same time by two words pro- 
nounced with that air of good nature so common to 
English women when they travel without the 
fatiguing society of their husbands : 

“ Oh, no! ” 


12 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


The third said nothing ; indeed, one might almost 
have thought that she had not perceived the entrance 
of the man. Her head thrust out of the window, 
her eyes turned in the direction of the platform, she 
threw timid little kisses to an invisible being. Soon, 
the train having left the station, she resumed her 
seat, and buried her veiled face several times in a su- 
perb bouquet of roses. 

Cherancy thought her quite insignificant. 

She wore a dust-cloak of yellowish silk trimmed 
with maroon ribbons, and her gloves were of the 
same common color. In addition to that, they 
scarcely had the number of buttons by which one’s 
style is judged of. Indeed, even without having 
Paul’s eyes — that is to say, the eyes of a painter 
renowned for his taste — we might have said that 
the roses in the lady’s bouquet were worth more 
than the roses in her hat, which was very unbecom- 
ing to her. 

“ I am,” thought the traveler, “ like a bird fallen 
from its nest ; not a newspaper, not a book, and, 
above all, not a cigar. But what could I do with a 
cigar here ? It is fortunate that at Libourne I shall 
regain all my rights as a free man.” 

To while away those forty minutes he studied his 
neighbor opposite him. 

“ Why, she is crying now ! Who the deuce is she 
leaving ? A husband ? A husband would have come 
to the door, and besides, a husband does not give 
such fine flowers. If I were to say : 4 Ah, Madame, 
I am depriving myself of smoking in your presence 


THE CHARM BROKEM. 


13 


— will you not return my politeness ? Who lias told 
you that I do not fear the odor of love ? ’ Plague 
take the whiner! Here I am in the dark until 
to-morrow.” 

It must here be told that Cherancy had been trav- 
eling in the mountains in order to escape his dis- 
appointment at a piece of feminine treachery which 
happened sooner than he had anticipated. His wound 
was healed, for it was not very deep. But the pain 
past, the void remained. Ho one to whom to 
give roses. Ho one from whom he was grieved to 
part. Hone of those partings which rend the heart, 
at which one assists hidden in a corner, twirling 
one’s moustache without seeming to know her who 
is departing. He too, once upon a time, had received 
kisses which reached their destination invisibly, tears 
which flowed mysteriously, tears which distressed 
but which produced such a feeling of happiness and 
of pride ! He too had loved ! 

At that moment Paul made the following dis- 
covery, which discouraged him very much and made 
him ill-natured : it was that to an ideal and affec- 
tionate nature the absence of love is harder to bear 
than all the sufferings caused by love. 

It was worth the pain of having passed that crisis, 
to feel oneself affected by a longing, a regret, at 
the sight of a tear falling from the eyes of a stran- 
ger! Then he appealed to his good sense, to his 
rancor so illy-appeased, to the experience he had 
with women. 

“What did he find attractive in her? Pretty 


14 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


she is not, nor stylish; nor is she interesting, still 
less vicious. She has a kind heart. Parbleu ! they 
have all kind hearts — for a while. Were I to take 
the trouble, Madame, you would be untrue in your 
glances three times in half an hour.” 

As he had nothing better to do, he took that 
trouble, but it was lost time. The train was running 
along the banks of the Gironde. 

Already the steeples of Bordeaux and the masts 
of the port were enshrouded in the distance in purple 
mist. Several sailing vessels drifting with the tide 
seemed like barks beside a monstrous trans- Atlantic 
steamer. 

It was upon that colossus that the eyes of the 
stranger were riveted, eyes filled with tears, and Paul 
would have been surprised could he have divined 
the memories called up in his neighbor’s mind at 
the sight of that steamer on her way to sea. 

By an abrupt movement, the express turned from 
the river into an unpoetical country. Then, with a 
deep sigh, without observing that she had a vis-a-vis, 
the lady dried her tears, bade farewell to her sor- 
row or to her dream, and prepared to go to sleep. 

Oh, sudden metamorphosis ! When she had taken 
off the ugly hat which concealed her lovely, fair hair, 
when she had thrown over that wealth of gold a 
black lace scarf knotted coquettishly beneath her 
chin, that woman appeared young, stylish, pretty. 
Our great-grandfather would have described her by 
the single word “ touching .” 


THE CHARM BROKEtf. 


15 


Cherancy did not take his eyes from her, and, for 
the moment, regretted his cigar-case less than his 
pencil and his sketch-book. 

It was quite another thing when she stretched 
herself upon the cushions after having — at last ! — 
thanked with a glance and two words uttered in a 
singularly sweet voice the obliging neighbor who 
relieved her of a heavy valise. She laid down with- 
out any prudery, with a movement of perfect har- 
mony, revealing an almost feline suppleness. The 
painter was charmed that she should instinctively 
have taken the most graceful pose, precisely the one 
he would have chosen for her ; her profile somewhat 
turned away, her arms encircling the bouquet of 
roses. And soon after, like a child, weary and yet 
comforted by its tears, she fell asleep, her lips parted 
in a half smile. But those rosy lips, mature, en- 
ticing, were not like those of a child. Motionless in 
his corner, like a spectator who occupies a good seat 
at the theatre, Paul no longer wondered what there 
was so seductive in that little woman. He enjoyed 
her as an artist and as a man as well. The train 
was, however, slackening speed in order to stop at 
Libourne. Cherancy, who knew English, heard 
Miss Three Stars say to her mother : “ I hope that 
gentleman will return to his coach now.” By not 
returning, he would appear like a simpleton cherish- 
ing ridiculous hopes of adventure. And yet he was 
inclined to remain there. What should he do ? He 
weighed the difficult problem, pretending to be asleep. 
For very little he would have snored, the dastard ! All 


16 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


men, in the presence of a woman who interests them, 
become more or less weak, ridiculous and small. 
Reader, you who have known the pleasures of those 
sweet yet cowardly actions, my hero awaits the first 
stone from you ! 

' It was the middle of the night. The two English 
women, in postures rigidly severe, stoically braved 
the inconveniences of all sorts resulting from the 
vicinity of a male companion. 

Each time that the train stopped Paul had the 
pleasure of hearing himself condemned to the infer- 
nal gods, in the language of Shakespeare. But he 
was less inclined than ever to leave the place from 
which he could admire the ideal effect of a ray of 
moonlight, bathing the upper portion of the young 
lady’s form; strange sight, accompanied by that 
fever of insomnia which exaggerates impressions, 
and by the excitement of nerves lashed by a rapid 
ride. At certain movements, he fancied he saw the 
pure brow, the golden bands of hair, the eyes of a 
lovely saint asleep on a Gothic window. Again, 
with a tinge of purple upon her smiling lips, she 
seemed like an amorous Diana, feigning sleep, in 
order to relieve a timid Endymion of all fear. Thus 
the tedious hours passed. Frequently the sleeper 
awoke and found Paul always on the qui vive , ready, 
before she could speak of it, to raise the window, to 
shade the lamp, to throw a shawl over her tiny 
feet, chilled by the night air. She replied by a sim- 
ple “ Thank you, ” and to hear a single word uttered 
by that soft, musical voice, Cherancy would have 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


17 


thrown the two English women out of the coupe. 
At Brietigny day broke. The lady awoke, put her 
bouquet in order, noticed that a red rose, the pret- 
tiest of all, was gone, and glanced at the floor. On 
seeing Paul’s eagerness to aid her in her search, 
she divined whither the rose had vanished, and im- 
mediately her face, already reserved, became statu- 
esque. Paul, thoroughly aroused, besides being 
chilled by the morning air, without a hat, without 
the shadow of a brush, absolutely certain of having 
been absurd and of being looked upon in that light, 
was angry with every one, himself to begin with. 
Moreover, the lady with the roses had donned her 
hat and was no longer pretty. The “ Midsummer 
Night’s Dream” terminated with a cold in the head! 

During the night Paul had planned a thousand 
clever detective-maneuvres to be emplo} 7 ed on his 
arrival. He carried none of them into execution, 
and, leaping from the coach when the train stopped, 
he rushed to the compartment which he had entered 
the preceding day at Pierre-fitte. In short, he took 
leave, by a mere bow, of the young saint and of the 
Diana whom he had devoured with his eyes for 
three hours. 

But as it was necessary that his ill-nature should 
fall upon some one, he said to Miss Three-Stars, in 
the most irreproachable English : 

“ Pardon the inconvenience my presence caused 
you — your humble servant, Mademoiselle.” 

Having reached his apartments on rue de 1’ Arcade, 
Paul retired, slept until eleven o’clock, took a bath, 


18 


THE CHARM BROKEtf. 


and while his breakfast was being prepared, he be- 
gan to assort the things he drew from his pockets. 
A red rose, which he had not gathered, recalled to 
his memory his adventure of the preceding night. 

“ Parbleu !” thought he, tapping his brow, “ I will 
keep the subject for one of my canvases for the 
Salon next year ! ” 


III. 

Autumn passed, and winter as well. On the first 
of May the doors of the Salon opened, according to 
their custom, and the two pictures by Cherancy 
were among the most conspicuous. 

One represented a hunting scene, his favorite 
subject. The other, noticed in the catalogue under 
the title, In the coach , was one of those paintings of 
the kind the most popular that year. The painter 
had confined himself to what he had seen, — or 
thought he had seen. After having rendered from 
memory, as well as he could, the charming posture, 
the features, the ambiguous expression of the sleep- 
ing traveler, and that moonlight effect which had 
charmed him so much, Paul amused himself by 
completing the details with rigorous exactness. 
Nothing was lacking in the decoration of the coach, 
in the costume so faithfully reproduced, even the 
bouquet lying upon the lady’s lap, and the red rose, 



Like a child, weary and yet comforted by its tears, she fell asleep 
her lips parted in a half smile. Page 15. 







•* 



























THE CHARM RROKUN. 


19 


making a dash of color upon the carpet, were not 
forgotten. 

“ It would be comical,” thought the painter, “ if 
she should see my painting and recognize her pic- 
ture. Parbleu! I am curious to know what she 
would do.” 

She did nothing, and yet it could not be said 
that she had not seen the picture. Not only had 
the work attracted all Paris by its true, modern 
amusing note, but all the newspapers, even in the 
smallest boroughs of France, as well, had described it. 

Paul had received offers from several people, but 
he did not hasten to reply. His work pleased him, 
and he thought of keeping it for himself. But he 
was sure he could dispose of it if he wished to. The 
other canvas, of less value, was already sold at a 
good price. 

One day, near the close of the Salon, Cherancy 
received by post a letter worded thus : 

The Countess de Chalonne would be obliged to M. Paul de 
Cherancy if he would name the price for his canvas exhibited 
under the name of * * *. 

(Hotel Veuillemont.) 

“She has taken her time,” thought the artist, 
much amused by the adventure. “A countess! 
Well, I doubt it ! In these days the ladies of the 
aristocracy can be distinguished from the middle 
class by their simplicity. As for selling her my 
picture, no indeed ! I will not take the money from 
that country-woman, for such she must be, since she 
is stopping at an hotel. However, I will see her, 


20 


THE CHARM BROKEtf. 


and if she be a woman with a keen sense of humor, 
the meeting will be a comical one.” 

On dining at his club, Ch6rancy posted himself. 
“ The Chalonnes,” said a friend to him, “ are people 
of position. They live in a castle near ‘Grave 
d’ Am bares.’ The marquis must be very old. As 
for the Count, he was seen often in Paris before his 
marriage. Since then, he has buried himself in his 
estates. He is an enthusiastic vine-grower and very 
rich besides. They say that his wife is very pretty.” 

“ Hot so pretty,” replied Paul, “ but very grace- 
ful.” 

“ Do you know her, then ? ” 

Cherancy opened his mouth to say that all Paris 
knew her from a certain canvas in the Salon. But 
he would have been obliged to relate the episode 
which had given rise to that absurd interpretation. 
He stopped short, spoke of other things, and, the 
clock pointing to 2, he left the club for rue Boissy- 
d’ Anglas. His siege was prepared when he mounted 
the staircase ; that is to say, he had planned in ad- 
vance a speech, light and spiritual, with a dash of 
gallantry and of malice — a scene from Marivaux, 
modernized by Feuillet. 

An unforeseen circumstance caused the play to end 
after the rising of the curtain. Paul was ushered, 
on presenting his visiting-card, into the presence of a 
tall, dark, handsome woman, with an imposing air, 
who, at that moment, was drawing on her gloves 
preparatory to going out. Her costume was very 
becoming, but it tempered the effect of her beauty 


THE CHAEM BROKEN. 


21 


more than it accentuated it. A pretty girl of about 
seven, carrying, as one would a halberd, her mother’s 
✓ parasol, looked proudly at the advancing stranger. 
That body-guard was worthy of a queen, and the 
whole picture breathed an exquisite grace; but 
Cherancy was not thinking of the picture before his 
eyes, nor of the other which he had come to sell. 
He only saw one thing — that his unknown had been 
changed. 

With a preoccupied air, he said : 

“ Pardon, Madame . . . Countess de Chalonne ? ” 

The strange brunette for half-a-moment appeared 
very much amused; then she resumed her dignified 
air and replied : 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The little girl seemed struck with amazement at 
the sight of that Iroquois who did not know the 
Countess of Chalonne. 

“Sir,” said the mother, pointing to a seat, “you 
are too kind to have put yourself out to come here. 
Two sentences will suffice : your canvas is charming, 
and I hope it is mine.” 

“My God! Madame, it is not for sale,” replied 
Paul, very much disappointed at affording those 
amusement upon whom he had counted to amuse him. 

“ Was it to tell me this that you came here? ” ex- 
claimed the Countess, glancing almost angrily at 
Cherancy. 

Paul, accepting the challenge, did not lack a reply. 

“ I came to see the person who did me the honor 
to write to me.” 


22 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ And now that you have seen her ? ” 

“ Now that I have seen her, I feel doubly sorry 
that I can not gratify her request.” 

By the fire which sparkled in his interlocutor’s 
eyes, Paul saw that she was not accustomed to be- 
ing opposed. The little girl, crimson with indigna- 
tion, seemed only to await the sign from her 
mother to lay the audacious man at her feet. Al- 
ready Mme. de Chalonne was routed, leaving Paul 
master of the field of battle. It is at that moment, 
usually, that we begin to yield, when the enemy is a 
woman. 

“ Madame,” said Cherancy, “ deign to listen to me. 
Suppose that chance had thrown us together to travel 
in the same coach an entire night and that you had 
slept from one end of the journey to the other: Sup- 
pose, too, and the matter is not improbable, that I 
had conceived a very pleasing subject, — mine must 
seem so to you since you wish to buy it ; suppose, 
finally, that the picture was drawn from a resem- 
blance such as I could remember, but perhaps some- 
what incorrect : would you like to see it fall into the 
hands of a stranger ? ” 

JSTo ; but I should not like any better to see it re- 
main in a painter’s studio among a thousand more or 
less common studies.” 

“On coming hither, I thought, I will confess, to 
find myself in the presence of my model, or rather, 
of my inspirer. In that case my reply could not be 
doubted.” Clarie de Chalonne seemed suddenly ap- 
peased. She reflected a moment, then she said : 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


23 


“ You speak like a man of delicacy, sir. Will you 
believe me if I tell you that your picture, bought by 
me, will pass directly into the hands of your ‘ in- 
spire^’ as you call her ? ” 

“ I can not call her anything else since I do not 
know her name. Tell her, then, that the painting 
shall be hers.” 

“ Thank you, sir. There now remains to settle.” 

“The price? dSTo ! An amateur-artist, such as I 
have the misfortune to be, has no right to accept 
money for his pictures. I hope for no other pay- 
ment than the pleasure of seeing once more a grace- 
ful lady to whom I owe, after all, an apology for 
having caused her to pose unknown to herself. You 
may tell her that, madam. She has, no doubt, her 
reasons for not appearing before me. I respect 
them whatever they may be ; but your friend might 
have, I assure you, been able to count upon the dis- 
cretion of an honorable man.” 

He thought of the kisses confided to the breezes, 
of those roses bathed in tears, and told himself that 
probably the traveler of the past Autumn dreaded 
meeting their involuntary witness. 

The bell rang, and Mme. de Chalonne seemed 
suddenly confused, to such a degree that the color 
rushed to her cheeks. Then, submitting to the only 
thing to be done, she said to her child : 

“ Open the door, Marthe.” 

Almost immediately could be heard exclamations 
of joy, the sound of kisses, and the child reappeared, 


24 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


skipping merrily about the room and crying : 

“Aunt Nadia ! Aunt Nadia ! ” 

Aunt Nadia, who proved to be Paul’s mysterious 
traveling companion, entered. Since the day of the 
private view, her mind had been filled, more than 
she would have liked to confess, with thoughts of 
the painting by Cherancy. 

At her cousin’s advice she had, a week before, 
commissioned her to negotiate with the artist, in 
order that she need not appear. 

She was very anxious to possess the canvas ; but 
she wanted no romance, and Claire de Chalonne, 
her guardian angel, wanted it still less than she did. 
The purloiner of roses — for she knew the entire 
story — did not favorably impress the latter. 

Nadia would have been very much surprised and 
probably very much disappointed, had she been 
told that the rose was not laid carefully away in the 
bottom of a box, that the painter had not kissed it as 
he brushed the canvas. With regard to the latter, 
the two cousins had come to the decision that it was 
an ingenious artifice by means of which to discover 
Nadia. In their hearts, they could not help admiring 
that ruse. 

With all that, the enemy was in the camp ; but 
it must be confessed that he had not the air of a vic- 
tor ready to commence the pillage. 

He looked at Nadia, not with belligerent intent, 
merely to see if he had caught the resemblance, and 
was pleased to find that he had been successful. Be- 
neath that glance, Nadia shuddered ? As for Claire, 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


25 


a calmer observer, she was reassured, in which she 
made a mistake : for Paul de Cherancy began to re- 
call his traveling companion with all her capti- 
vating grace. And, if this time the mind was less 
affected, the heart was more so. 

The conversation began. Countess de Chalonne 
was certainly not very tactful. Wishing to close 
the door on romance, she opened the window. 
Thanks to her, Paul learned the history of the bou- 
quet. The roses had been gathered by Claire her- 
self, and it was to her, for she had accompanied her 
cousin to the station, that Nadia’s tears and kisses 
were directed. 

Therefore the coast was clear, or at least might 
be, and Cherancy received that intelligence with a 
pleasure which surprised himself. 

As was only right, the artist made a disdainful 
gesture when the financial question was broached. 

“I only ask one favor,” said he. “I have my 
artist’s vanity and I should like my work to present 
a perfect likeness. Will Madame take the trouble 
to come once or twice to my studio, that I may 
retouch it from nature ? 

What reply could be made to so just a demand? 
Madame Fresnel, accompanied "by Claire, posed 
twice. Marthe, who had become a great friend of 
Paul’s since he had conducted himself so well, chap- 
eroned her mother and aunt. 

The result was that Mme. de Chalonne took away 
with her a charming sketch of her daughter, made 
in two hours. 


26 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


At length the Countess and Marthe returned to 
La Pree. The artist asked and was accorded per- 
mission to deliver his picture himself . . . 

Four years thereafter, as we have seen at the 
commencement of this story, the delivery had not 
been finally made. 


IV. 

For the prolongation of conjugal happiness is requi- 
site a combination difficult to fancy, of virtues, of 
self-denial, of reciprocal expediences and even of 
exterior chances. To render a social liaison , I will 
not say enjoyable for a long time, but possible, there 
is required a number of conditions usually very rare. 

The vaults of the Pantheon would suffice to the 
end of time for the burial of husbands gifted enough 
to keep until the end their faithful wives, at the same 
time making them happy ; who have discovered how 
to make saints without producing martyrs. But 
what of the wonderful man who, for a long period of 
life, kept in a cage with one hundred doors those 
delicate birds whom lawful bars wound so easily and 
imprison so illy ! That man must have possessed at 
one and the same time genius, prudence, seduction, 
poetry, experience, constant control over himself, 
unbounded devotion. He must have been a Riche- 
lieu, a Don Juan, a Balzac, a Musset, a Plato and a 
Vendredi. Oh ! the rare, valuable man ! 


THE CHAEM BROKEN. 


27 


Probably Cherancy did not possess absolutely all 
those qualities, but he had a certain number, prin- 
cipally the most useful in such a case, that is to say, 
the negative qualities. 

He was no longer young enough to scorch him- 
self at one of those brilliant flames which are short- 
lived. He was no longer innocent enough to incur 
the risk of breaking his idol by placing it on a 
pedestal lost in the clouds. 

He was not vain enough to compromise his hap- 
piness by talking of it ; he was too well treated by 
life to have become hardened ; his happiness here 
below had not been perfect enough to render him 
selfish. He had no relatives to depend upon him, 
nor even a godmother to wish to marry him off. 
He had only a limited number of friends, not much 
wealth, some ambition. His art was not to him an 
absorbing passion nor an obligatory livelihood. He 
rarely set his foot in a newspaper office and had 
never read Schopenhauer. 

There is, you will say, a character which the 
author does not flatter. Patience ! The time will 
come when you will accuse me of portraying to you 
an improbable hero. Such is, indeed, the reproach 
one risks in attempting to relate true stories. 

In the main, Cherancy’s liaison with Mme. Fresnel 
was born of a misunderstanding. 

The former had desired nothing but to produce a 
picture of a novel kind, for which Fate had pro- 
vided him with the idea. The latter, her fancy 
swayed by the solitary dreams of her life, formed, 


28 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


from that painting in the Salon, a romance of 
respectful and delicate passion, that ideal of refined 
feminine hearts. 

“ He loves me. He has watched me sleep an en- 
tire night. He has stolen a rose from me. With 
that, not a word, not an indiscreet attempt to fol- 
low me and to find out who I am. A painting made 
from memory — how he remembered the smallest de- 
tails ! — proves to me that he thinks of me.” 

Thus, the artist had unconsciously woven a 
romance. From the first day Nadia vowed that the 
picture should find a place in her house, but without 
the author’s knowledge. It seemed to her as if that 
romantic sketch would lgse its charm if the mystery 
were to vanish ; but, as we have seen, the precaution 
taken to remain the unknown of the carriage had 
turned out a failure. Thrown together on ground so 
well prepared, they thought themselves suited one 
for the other. The isolation of their lives, a strong 
feeling of sympathy drew them together. 

Soon Nadia was no longer mistaken in believing 
herself loved. Soon she loved. 

They gave themselves to one another, as they 
thought, for life. Not only their lips confessed it, 
which is the usual custom, but their hearts avowed 
it with all their fervor, without mad precipitations ; 
on the contrary, with grave meditation. Under the 
influence of their bliss, those two companions felt as 
if departing for a lengthy voyage. Thus they 
allowed the fragile vessel which carried their com- 
mingled lives to float along. And, when, the last 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


29 


cable cut, Nadia re-opened her eyes to see the shore 
flee forever, she could not restrain this cry, the 
first avowed of the anxiety from which she could 
not free herself : 

“ Oh, God ! If Claire knew.” 

They recognized, I think, in all its fullness, the 
happiness which arises from what is called in the 
world an unknown liaison. The world accepts no 
others. If it accepts them, you will say, it is 
because it does not know of them ; but how can it 
accept them if it does not know of them ? That is one 
of those numerous mysteries which the world offers to 
the meditation of skeptics. 

In reality, the world is not often unaware of them, 
but, on this occasion, the ignorance was complete, — 
at the price of what sacrifices ! 

Paul and Nadia alone could tell ; sacrifices so hard 
to make, that I know few people who would desire 
a happiness so dearly bought. Four years to hide 
their love, they had to resort to the same ruses 
which an Indian tribe employs to hide its camp in 
the immense forest strewn with ambushes. For 
four years, Cherancy only visited Mme. Fresnel* at 
hours agreed upon beforehand, when he was certain 
to find her alone. And, on the rare occasions when 
she rejoined a small circle, he abstained from ap- 
pearing, paving found out from the experience of 
others, in similar cases, with what ease the slightest 
incident betrays certain mysteries. Never had they 
been seen walking alone, or in public places. Con- 
certs, theatres were closed to them, and that depri- 


30 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


vation was one of the hardest to bear. But that 
which, above all, caused Nadia pain, for she was of 
a jealous nature, was that she could not follow the 
man she loved into the world. Not only did they 
not seek occasions on which to meet in society, but, 
invited to the same place, one of the two refused. 
At times, in the summer, in some village without 
the border, they met with the air of malefactors 
tracked by the police. 

Thanks to their rare prudence, the couple had suc- 
ceeded in deceiving the world. But Nadia would 
not have cared to pass for an angel of purity in the 
eyes of the entire world if she could have, by any 
means, concealed her fault from her cousin. After 
having envied her as the happiest of women, she 
feared her, at that time, as the embodiment of un- 
swerving fidelity. From childhood, although Claire 
was the younger, she had gained a strange ascend- 
ency over the little orphaned Nadia, who had become 
her companion by adoption. And, in the excesses 
of anger which sometimes possessed her, Nadia often 
had been calmed by that menace of Claire’s : 

“ You know ! I will not love you anymore ! ” 

When Mme. Fresnel, a few months after the 
commencement of her liaison , saw the time for 
Claire’s annual visit approach, she felt the fear of a 
dishonest cashier on the eve of detection. 

“Do you wish,” said she to Paul, “to know the 
surest proof of my attachment for you ? I should 
feel almost comforted to hear that my cousin could 
not come.” 


THE CHARM BROKER. 


31 


“ Why ? You are not, so far as I know, obliged to 
choose between us.” 

“I pray to God that the choice may never be 
imposed upon me ! Without you, I should die of 
grief. Without her, I should die of shame. Ah, 
dear ! may she find nothing out ; that would end all ! ” 

The Countess de Chalonne arrived. Her cousin 
went, as was her custom, to meet her at the station. 
Those were the same kisses, the same passionate 
tenderness, apparently. Claire did not divine that 
she was no longer the preferred one. But one thing 
did not escape her : 

“ My God,” she exclaimed ; “ how handsome you 
have grown ! ” 

Happily, the Countess was not suspicious. If she 
had asked the cause of that improvement, she would 
have embarrassed poor Nadia very much, for she 
had never been able to tell an untruth. Paul, in- 
structed, had no longer permission to come to the 
house. That Mme. Fresnel should visit him never 
occurred to either of them. He began to curse the 
country, its residents and their visits to the capital. 
Fortunately, he knew how to write and so did Nadia. 
Twice a day they told each other of their trials, re- 
counting the smallest details of their lives, telling 
one another of what they thought, of what they did 
and also, alas ! of what they did not do. 

But soon the quarantine was raised, and by her in 
honor of whom it had been established. Mme. de 
Chalonne could not see the famous picture, “ In the 
Coach” without inquiring about the artist. And, as 


32 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


Nadia, who after all had made some progress in the 
art of dissimulating, returned a cold reply and spoke 
indifferently of several visits she had received from 
Paul, her severe cousin continued : 

“ I am pleased to hear that he leaves you in peace, 
although he has not the appearance of a flirt. It is 
first for that reason that I like him. And then in 
him are combined two qualities between which gen- 
erally one has to choose — the case of a man of the 
world and the picturesqueness of an artist. I should 
be charmed to see him. Will he not come here once 
during my stay ? ” 

“ I do not think so ; at least not unless we invite 
him,” said Mme. Fresnel, who that time spoke the 
truth. 

Several days later a formal note, due to the col- 
laboration of the two cousins, who had weighed 
every word of it, informed Paul of the presence in 
Paris of Countess de Chalonne, and of the pleasure 
it would afford her to see him, a pleasure shared by 
Mme. Fresnel. Conclusion : An invitation to spend 
the evening with the latter in three days’ time. 

A private note of eight pages, covered with con- 
fidential instructions, accompanied that invitation. 

It concluded thus : “ Be with me at three o’clock; 
you will find me alone and we can spend twenty-five 
minutes together. At no price would I have a tete- 
a-tete between you and her. She has too often 
spoken of 4 my painter ’ in the past two days. And 
if she should ask you for her portrait, refuse abso- 
lutely. Moreover, you promised never to paint an- 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


33 


other woman from nature. A model so seductive is 
the very last I could allow you/’ 

The twenty-five minutes at Boulevard Saint Ger- 
main would be entirely consecrated to recommenda- 
tions of prudence. The next morning Paul received 
a long letter again. The last sentence contained this 
threat : 

“ If she should suspect anything, you will not see 
me any more.” 

And farther on, this postscript betrayed a fever- 
ish hand : 

“ But do not try to put her on the wrong scent by 
paying her court ; all would be ended between us.” 

Notwithstanding his worldly habits, Paul saw the 
time arrive with terror when he was to go to Mme. 
Fresnel’s. From the real Scylla and Chary bdis, he 
would have been able to preserve a reasonable dis- 
tance. But in a salon fifteen feet square, he should 
have to work between two women without exciting 
the suspicions of the one and the jealousy of the 
other. 

Fortunately, that evening Lucien Sireuil dined 
at Boulevard Saint Germain, thus with the two 
cousins forming a trio. At first, the conversation 
was very merry. After dinner it gradually took a 
more serious turn, when the subject of a suit of 
which all Paris was still talking, and which Sireuil 
had won, was discussed. 

“What a pity,” said Claire, “that talent such 
as yours — pardon my frankness — should be so idly 
employed. In aiding certain women to leave a false 


34 


THE CHARM BR0KEH. 


position, you, in a measure, encourage them to adopt 
it.” 

“Dear Madame,” replied Sireuil, “you would 
speak differently were you to hear what I repeat 
seventy times to my clients before pleading their 
cases: 4 Suffer yourselves to be deceived.’ I say to 
them ; 4 Suffer yourselves to be bored, suffer your- 
selves to be beaten, but never separate. Once sep- 
arated, you will no longer have the excuse of ven- 
geance. And if you behave in a proper manner, no 
one will believe in your virtue.’ ” 

44 Well reasoned,” said the Countess. 44 Does it 
have the effect of persuading them sometimes ? ” 
“Never. When a woman has crossed a lawyer’s 
threshhold, all is finished. She thinks she has 
breathed free air, has crossed the Bubicon of inde- 
pendence. Do you know what alone would stop 
her, if she has any pride % A probation in the world 
of separated people. A woman is always a woman. 
She does everything gracefully, prettily, neatly. 
But there are the men ! ” 

44 Ah, yes,” sighed Nadia. 44 It is curious to observe 
the contempt expressed by the most refined when 
they speak of a divorced woman. Why that blot 
on the customs of a society which has for its motto, 
“All for woman t ” 

44 Softly,” corrected Sireuil. “All for woman 
, . . and for man ! ” The Salic Francs, our 
forefathers, have bequeathed to us contempt of a 
lone woman. In the height of the age of chivalry, 
we did not want them for queens. To-day we vol- 


THE CHARM BROKEM. 


35 


untarily insult them on the streets. We only accord 
them one privilege, that of dwelling in a coach orna- 
mented with a placard ! It is absurd, and I’ll wager 
that neither of you, ladies, would enter one.” 

“ That is true,” said Claire. “ It would seem to 
me that I was traveling fourth-class. But, in spite 
of all, dear sir, I think you too peremptory. For, 
in certain cases, we know separation is a woman’s 
duty.” 

“ Certainly,” replied the lawyer, gravely. “ Once 
in the course of my career I have been able to say 
to my client : ‘ It is necessary for you to separate.’ 
And I remained her respectful and sincere friend.” 

He kissed Nadia’s hand and resumed, in the midst 
of an affecting silence : 

“ Would you like to knovr what there is so terrible 
about a separation, unless the victim has a great 
name, a large fortune, grand connections ? For them 
the situation is very different. Even irreproachable 
as she may be, the separated woman must choose 
between two alternatives : the life of a recluse, or 
the role of a dog without a master.” 

“ Enough ! ” said Nadia, with tears in her eyes. 
“ When I indulge in those thoughts, I am seized with 
a desire to enter a convent.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! ” replied Sireuil, who was- not at all 
devout. “ I defy you, dear friend, to find a single 
convent where they would undertake to cut off that 
superb hair, as long as your husband has not given 
up his soul to God. Instead of retiring into a con- 


36 


THE! CHARM BROKEH. 


vent, seek refuge behind the affection of your 
friends.” 

At that moment, as if he had heard those words, 
Paul de Cherancy entered. He arrived in time to 
create diversion, and Sireuil, who knew him, hast- 
ened to furnish him with an opportunity to enliven 
an audience which had need of it. Paul, agreeably 
surprised to find the coast free from danger, easily 
fulfilled a role which was not beyond his powers, 
for he was intelligent. 

Mme. de Chalonne was pleased with him, and, 
without being aware of it, gradually monopolized 
him. He had been sent for for her. 

For four years Cherancy had made many sacri- 
fices, but rarely had one so difficult been demanded 
of him as that he should not reply to the sympathy 
of a beautiful, well-informed woman who spoke to 
him of his art, praised his talent and who enjoyed the 
artistic conversation of an accomplished Parisian. 

Nadia, frowning moodily, conversed absently with 
Sireuil, who strove to interest her. 

Eleven o’clock chimed. The two men rose. Paul 
seemed enchanted with his evening. An annihilat- 
ing glance showed him that he was too much pleased. 
Claire assured him that she would be delighted to see 
him again. 

“ IPm ! ” thought he ; “I think I have put her on 
the wrong scent too strongly. Look out for a storm 
to-morrow.” 

Another, however, was to see the storm burst. 

Left alone with her cousin, Nadia, without a word, 


37 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


approached the mantel-piece and, with nervous fin- 
gers, re-arranged the bric-a-brac upon it. Then, as 
Claire was preparing to return to her sleeping child, 
she detained her, made her seat herself, fell upon 
her knees before her, and, forgetting everything but 
her jealousy, the strongest of all the passions, of all 
the feelings of a woman, she spoke thus : 

“ Claire, listen to me ! You are happy ; you should 
be good. You have all that mortal could desire ; a 
child, who alone suffices for a life’s happiness ; a 
husband of whom you can be proud and who loves 
you devotedly ; the life of a queen in the midst of 
people who respect you, in a delightful country. I 
have nothing. A man who is a good judge just 
said that I was a poor dog without a master.” 

“ For pity’s sake, be calm,” said Claire, throwing 
her arms around her cousin’s neck. “You are 
ungrateful. Have you not a sister ? ” 

“ Let me speak,” continued Nadia. “ Listen. A 
kind, tender, .generous man has reconciled me to the 
future. I love him as if there were only he and I 
upon this earth. It is the first love of my life ; it 
will be the last. He is my support, my stay, the 
rock to which I cling. As wise as a father, as 
devoted as you are, as tender as I should never have 
thought a man could be. . . . Ah, were I to lose 
him now, I should soon die ! ” 

“ Nadia ! ” 

“ You may be disgusted, surprised. Do you think 
I have not been so a hundred times ? Do you know 
that I wrote to that man yesterday, referring to 


38 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


you : ‘ If she should discover our secret. I should 

not see you again 1 5 How was it that you did not 
divine it ? You did not look at me after he entered. 
But now that I have seen you together, I say to you 
a quite different thing : leave me, scorn me, go ; 
never return ; tell my weakness to all the earth ! . . 
But do not make Paul love you ! ” 

“ Nadia, you forget yourself ! ” 

“ I forget everything ; I am mad ; I abuse you 
both. But I am so unhappy! For an hour I 
watched you. I saw his eyes admire you, his 
artist’s eyes which found beauty in you. His face 
lighted up at your words. His voice trembled when 
he addressed you. Oh ! why did you want him this 
evening ? ” 

With those w r ords, Nadia burst into tears and 
buried her face in her cousin’s lap. 

The latter caressed her tenderly without replying. 
In a moment she said : 

“ Poor darling! You are just as of yore with 
those wild outbursts. But the little Clairon of 
former days has not changed either. She loves you 
with the same tenderness. Be reasonable, my dear, 
my beloved sister. I will never voluntarily cause 
you pain ; I would rather suffer a thousand torments. 
Moreover, you know very well, dear simpleton, that 
only one man exists for me. Rise, do not weep any 
more. You shall never hear a harsh word from my 
lips.” 

“ Yes, but what will you think?” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


39 


“I should not do differently if I had suffered as 
you have. That is what I think. Kiss me.” 

With a bound Mme. Fresnel rushed into the arms 
held out to her. She no longer wept. 

In her heart, her severe friend thought her too 
easily consoled as she heard her sigh: 

“ Ah ! if you knew how I loved him! ” 

“ Chut ! ” said the Countess. “ I have promised 
not to judge you, but not that I would not absolve 
you. I will be your confessor with the blessed for- 
giveness and eternal silence ; but not your confidant. 
We both forgot ourselves; I know nothing; you 
have told me nothing. And now, if you wish all to 
remain as it was between us, you will give me a 
promise.” 

“ To part from him ? Never ! ” exclaimed the im- 
petuous woman, starting up with dilated nostrils. 

“ No,” said Claire, almost in a whisper, with an 
expression of deep sadness. “ Not to part from him, 
for I could no longer esteem you if — if I had to 
listen to another confession.” 

Nadia was silent. To those words, in which there 
was so much truth, what could she have replied ? 
After a short pause, she asked : 

“ What promise do you wish ? ” 

“ This : On our friendship, swear to let him think 
that I know nothing. You would not wish to make 
me blush for you if I should meet him again.” 

“ You are right. I should no longer be worthy to 
be your sister were I to speak ! Now, adieu ! Let 
me weep alone ! ” 


40 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Claire de Chalonne was the purest of women. 
But she would not have been a woman if, reviewing 
in her mind the passionate confession she had just 
heard, she had not thought of the penitent a little 
less than of the cause of the trespass. 

When her carriage left her at Hotel Yeuillemont, 
she had resolved to do everything in her power to 
avoid another meeting with Cherancy for the sake of 
Nadia’s peace of mind. 

“ It is a pity ! ” thought she. “ He would have 
been a charming friend. And what will he think if 
he sees that I avoid him ? What shall I do ? 

Matters, alas, were arranged only too easily. 

Scarcely had she entered the house when Claire 
received from the hands of her maid a dispatch call- 
ing her to La Pree, where her husband had just been 
stricken with a sudden illness. She left the follow- 
ing day ; fifteen days later she was a widow. 


Y. 

Nadia kept her promise, and Paul remained igno- 
rant of the scene which had taken place between the 
two women. 

Would she have kept the secret as well — the only 
one she had from him— if fresh occasion had arisen 
to put her jealousy to the test? It is doubtful. For 
two years deep mourning detained the Countess at 
La Pree with her daughter and her father and 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


41 


mother-in-law, who were crushed by the Joss of their 
only son, the last of their race. 

It seemed, too, as if Mme. Fresnel had sworn not 
to mention her cousin’s name, and Cherancy wisely 
guessed that that silence was due to rancor or to the 
precaution of a jealous nature. Perhaps he was 
right up to a certain point ; but, in reality, Nadia 
could not think of Countess de Chalonne, white and 
pure beneath her widow’s cap, without experiencing a 
sort of shame. The severe words uttered by Claire 
on a certain evening resounded in her ears in the 
happiest moments of her life. Her first impetuosity 
calmed, she could not forgive herself for having been 
so frank. 

A few months after the death of M. de Chalonne, 
she wrote to the young widow who had congratu- 
lated her upon being happy in comparison with her 
own sadness. 

“ Happy, did you say ? Alas ! There are tombs so 
thickly covered with flowers, — you know it, poor 
friend ! — which one passes near without suspecting 
that which the dark earth hides. Yain illusion! If 
a cold wind should blow on a winter’s morning, 
beneath the mantle of fallen leaves, the hillock re- 
veals its dark form. If you knew how that icy air 
often passes over my heart, how often I am reminded 
of that which is dead in my life : self-esteem ! ” 

That life certainly did not lack flowers, thanks to 
the tender devotion of Cherancy, whose only fault 
was too great a weakness for the beloved woman. 
He treated her as a delicate t?e|fg? as a sick child, 


42 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


spoiling her at the moment of her attacks, a danger- 
ous thing ! We have seen children pretend to be sick 
in order to obtain sugar. 

As for him, I think he was, with the exception of 
those alternatives, as happy as a man could be. He 
had over his beloved the advantage of being occu 
pied. The hours which did not belong to her belonged 
to art. He was progressing, his reputation was 
growing, and his pictures, always sold, materially 
increased his income. 

As long as Mme. Fresnel was the “ good Nadia,” 
as she called herself, Paul recognized the ideal of the 
happiness expected of a woman. 

Gentle, devoted, intelligent, pleased to sacrifice 
all the joys of life to the joy of loving. By terms 
smiling and impassioned, she accomplished the 
wonder of being “ several in one ” which engenders 
constancy. 

On certain days the wind suddenly changed. 

Then the “ bad Nadia,” suspicious, jealous, unde- 
ceived, doubting all, dissatisfied with her fate, seek- 
ing change and excitement, desiring all that she had 
not, appeared. When Cherancy heard her praise 
domestic joys or speak with enthusiasm of the ver- 
dant solitude of the woods, of the majesty of the 
ocean, of the snowy mountain peaks, he knew what 
was coming. 

“ Alas ! ” he cried, discouraged, “ I resemble those 
gardeners who cultivate the most beautiful flowers 
in the world at the foot of Vesuvius. At the mo- 
ment that the perfume is the most intoxicating, the 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


43 


breeze the most gentle, a dull sound makes them 
fear a shower of ashes for the morrow.” 

Then, gloomily, thrown back upon herself, ISTadia 
replied : 

“ Very well, unhappy gardener, seek a more equa- 
ble climate. Leave this miserable spot ! ” 

In her rebellious hours Hadia felt the desire to do 
those things “ forbidden ” by Paul : to summon her 
“ friend ” Mme. Lavissiere, who turned her head by 
her silly and unwholesome tittle-tattle, or else to 
pay a visit to the salon of the “ GeneraPs wife,” in 
order to seek diversion there. 

The “ GeneraPs wife,” as she was called in the 
coterie of which she formed the centre, was a widow, 
had not been divorced, but, as she expressed herself 
with the military freedom which she had inherited 
from the defunct : “ It was ripening ! The day be- 
fore the one on which Philibert was taken ill, I had 
my first conference with my lawyer. Three months 
more and I should have entered the brotherhood. 
Alas ! the poor fellow did not give me time ! ” 

The “ poor fellow, ”if evil tongues could be credited, 
had found time to enter another “ brotherhood.” 
According to the story, apoplexy, which came so 
opportunely, was caused by the excitement of a 
vexatious discovery. But, as the affair dated from 
the days of the second empire, the legend was en- 
shrouded in the vague uncertainty of prehistoric 
times. One fact was certain ; the flagrant offence. 
Contemporaries themselves no longer remembered if 
Philibert died of grief at having surprised, or of 


44 THE CHARM BROKEN.' 

shame at having been surprised. When the question 
was put to Lucien Sireuil, an old friend of the couple, 
he replied with his enigmatical smile : 

“ My God ! I remember clearly that I was to plead 
the case, and I even regretted its falling-through, 
for it would have launched me ; I was just beginning 
then. But the deuce take me if I can say which 
one of the couple I was to aid and on which side of 
the bar we were to appear. Moreover, of what use 
is it to remember ? Death effaces everything.” 

Whatever it might have been, the General’s wife 
could flatter herself that she was one of the least 
compromised among the women who assembled in 
her drawing room every evening. She thought 
with the best faith in the world that she had always 
loved her husband to the exclusion of all others. 

“ An excellent man, ” said she ; “ somewhat rest- 
less, like all soldiers. But I pardon him, poor 
man ! ” 

When more than sixty years old the General’s 
wife was alone in the world, owing to the death of 
all her relatives, and to the negligence of the defunct 
Sauteyron who had left her without offspring. And, 
if the truth must be told, the good woman was 
utterly incapable of remaining alone more that five 
minutes. 

As she was wealthy, thoroughly good-natured, 
and, above all, comfortably situated, her rooms in 
rue de Monceau became gradually d cosmopolitan 
circle, at which those who entered paid no assess- 
ment, and to which ladies were admitted. There 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


45 


were to be found people of all nations, even French ; 
women of all sorts, occasionally quite respectable 
ones. Famous Chevreuil showed to his visitors, at 
the Gobelin manufactory, a scale of colors most 
ingeniously arranged. The General’s wife had her 
scale, too, less complete, to be sure, for she did not 
indulge in extreme shades. From time to time one 
could see there skeins somewhat dark, thanks to the 
complicity of easy introducers. The mistress of the 
house, very deaf and absent-minded, did not hear 
certain names very well. Those which would have 
made a granite Pharaoh sneeze by their odd conso- 
nances were totally unknown to her. Their identity 
better established, despair, bitter complaints were 
confided to the intimate circle, with coarse resolutions 
to “ change all that.” 

Poor Nathalie ! To hinder others from entering 
her salon ! If only she had permission to leave it 
at her fancy, or even to remain there alone ! For 
she almost pined away after an hour of solitude. 

More than once, leaving for the theatre, she met 
on the staircase a joyous band coming to feast with 
her. Whether she willed or not, she had to retrace 
her steps, to have the lamps lighted, the card-tables 
set out, sandwiches buttered. Very often, when 
freed from one band, the General’s wife was prepar- 
ing to retire, a squad of fresh troops, coming from 
the Opera, invaded her rooms, and kept her up until 
five o’clock in the morning. At first, she took the 
matter good-naturedly ; then, the following morning, 
awaking with a headache, she vowed that she would 


46 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


close her door, and closed it indeed. A rebellion 
which did not last long. The second day, tired of 
conversing with her parrot and her maid, she had 
her horses harnessed at ten o’clock in the evening, 
and sought the remainder of her menagerie. Nata- 
lie’s salon was an amusing place. They did not speak 
there of politics, literature, art, nor finance. In that 
curious set, many people would think that malicious 
tongues would have full sway. Quite the contrary ! 
Each one only opening his lips to speak of himself, 
you were certain never to hear any one spoken 
of unkindly. 

Mme. Fresnel was invariably amused there the 
first half-hour. Then she felt out of place, having 
nothing to relate about herself, and understanding 
nothing of the stories told before her in broken sen- 
tences, and portions of words intelligible only to 
the habitues. 

Indeed, her sudden appearances cast a gloom over 
the assemblage. That young, discreet, calm, refined 
lady with the ways of a pretty, soft cat, contrasted 
strangely with the others. She made them uneasy. 
Involuntarily everyone changed his or her position; 
they spoke less loudly. For a few moments one 
might have thought oneself in the most rigid soci- 
ety. The old players of besique upbraided her for 
her dislike to cards. The younger generation 
thought her a conceited prude. The men, gener- 
ally, were on her side, but without enthusiasm. 
Several had asked permission to come to see her. 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


4 ? 

But, after three visits, they were no longer seen on 
Boulevard Saint Germain. 

“Too insignificant, you know,” said the most 
benign, with a grimace. 

Others added: 

“There is a mystery about her. That little 
woman has some one, you may be sure. Moreover, 
they say she has no fortune.” 


VI. 

Several days after the evening of the tete-a-tete 
on which this story opens, Paul was pacing his room 
very much excited, while his evening dress was 
spread upon the chairs. The matter to be decided 
was if he should or if he should not go to dine in 
town. 

He had no right to hesitate. He had received the 
invitation, he had accepted it. Ho illness, no death 
had occurred. They expected him ; the host had 
told his guests that he was coming. In short, why 
hide it ? It was to be one of those dinners so rare 
even in Paris. 

But the weather on Boulevard Saint Germain was 
stormy. During the day, Cherancy had stood a fit 
of passion, and, at that moment, he was trying to 
devise some means by which Hadia would not be 
left in solitude, the danger of which he recognized 
for her. His kind heart and his affection counseled 


48 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


him to send some excuse to his hosts, to dine at his 
club and to surprise his beloved, who, to tell the 
truth, had refused ten times, an hour before, the 
sacrifice he offered to make for her. 

At the last moment the idea came to him that he 
could arrange everything ; that thought by its unex- 
pected results was to decide his life. 

For the time being, in all ways, the arrangement 
did not succeed. His dinner did not give him any 
pleasure, and he himself afforded the others none; 
for he was preoccupied, nervous, scarcely tasted of 
the dishes, and wished the guests would eat without 
speaking, in order to finish sooner. At ten o’clock 
he entered his carriage and drove to Nadia’s, whose 
surprise he pictured to himself. How she would 
reproach him for having left his host for her. 

But one should mistrust the “ no ” of women to 
whom one offers a like sacrifice. Until nine o’clock 
Mme. Fresnel had awaited Paul. 

“ He left me sorrowful,” she thought ; u I know 
him. He will refuse the invitation and will return 
to me. The darling ! he spoils me so ! But I, too, 
will have a surprise for him. He shall find me gen- 
tle, calm, satisfied, appreciative of the joys of my 
life, his entirely ! ” 

At twenty minutes past nine, Cherancy had not 
come, and Nadia was no longer gentle, calm nor 
satisfied. At half-past nine, a hundred times worse 
than she had been during the day, she dressed her- 
self hastily and started for the house of the General’s 
wife, where she found a full house. 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


49 


Her entrance produced the usual effect. Every- 
one was silent, and the mistress of the house began 
to laugh, which was her way of welcoming people. 
The laugh varied according to the degree of friend- 
ship. With those to whom she was indifferent, 
Nathalie limited herself to two or three slight chuck- 
les. If the visitor was a favored one, she bordered 
on a swoon and seemed on the point of suffocation. 

Nadia, who had no desire to laugh, seated herself 
quietly, and the players of both sexes grouped 
around the tables, resumed their game, after having 
raised their heads to see “ at whom Flore was bark- 
ing.” The saying originated with Yalleroy, one of 
the tyrants of the house, possessing and cultivating 
without constraint the gift of clothing harsh truths 
in an unpleasant envelop. 

A whist-player of advanced age, an Austrian Bar- 
oness, — some said German— extinguished the lamp, 
which hurt her eyes. In the large room could be 
distinguished vague groups scattered about in the 
corners. 

Everyone was almost suffocated, thanks to a Prin- 
cess with an “ off,” who was always shivering, for she 
was dressed in winter, as well as in summer, in white 
muslin and delicate laces. From that chilly looking 
cloud emerged a pretty, restless, fair head with two 
large eyes like' those of a consumptive. She was 
known as “Princess Vampire,” a very unjust nick- 
name, to judge by her two ordinary and titled vic- 
tims seated near her and struggling silently to please 
her with doleful sighs, burning glances and by cast- 


50 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


ing logs into the grate. One of the men, short, as 
florid as a cock, as fat as a priest, as rich as Croesus^ 
was a Jewish financier, very proud of being on famil- 
iar terms with a real princess. The other, a starve- 
ling, worn out from dissipation, very poor, dying of 
love, in the rigorous sense of the word, for that ner- 
vous woman who was fifteen years older than he 
was. But he was dying hard, different from the 
way in which a man of the old French family from 
which he sprang should die. His poverty, his pas- 
sion submitted to strange trials, his alternation from 
enthusiasm to disgust for his idol, the unfortunate 
man hid nothing. He even laughed with the rest at 
his fate, in order not to give them the pleasure of 
laughing behind his back. 

The adjoining room, the door of which was open, 
seemed as resplendent with light as the salon was 
dark. Its occupants were enjoying themselves thor- 
oughly, and Nadia would gladly have participated 
in their enjoyment ; but she saw there two or three 
young women whose impertinent lorgnettes intimi- 
dated her. Just at that moment Yalleroy left the 
sanctuary and approached, his eternal cigarette 
between his lips, the sofa on which lime. Fresnel 
and the General’s wife were seated. 

“ For heaven’s sake ! ” exclaimed Nathalie ; “ 1 
believe some one is smoking in my room ! ” 

< f Oh! not very much,” replied Yalleroy, with per- 
fect composure. “Ye were forbidden to smoke in 
the salon this evening on account of your tiresome 
Baroness’ asthma.” 


the charm: brokeh. 


51 


“Well, my dear, smoke in the dining-room, then! 
Did you ever?” 

“ The ladies say they do not like to sup amid 
smoke. Do not excite yourself. When everyone is 
gone, your maid will open the windows for five 
minutes, and you will sleep as if you were in a 
grove.” 

“ Heavens ! ” exclaimed Nadia, who liked warmth 
as much as does a cat. “ It is freezing ! But, at the 
present moment, the ‘grove’ seems to me to be inhab- 
ited by very noisy birds.” 

“ Luzenac has just lost a wager which is the cause 
of all that tumult. That mad Elisabeth de Tala- 
mont bet with him that pretty MaroPs foot was no 
smaller than her own. Championing his protegee’s 
cause, Luzenac went straightway to the Opera to 
fetch the dancer’s shoes, and Bess slipped into them 
without any difficulty. She is enraptured and 
desires to retain the trophy of her victory. Then 
followed forcible comments which would not inter- 
est a recluse living, like you, without the scandal of 
our world. That is all, dear Madam.” 

The General’s wife, who had gone to take a glance 
at her room, returned angrier than ever. She said to 
Mme. Fresnel, the usual confidant of her despair : 

“ It is too bad ! They have made of it a smok- 
ing-room, my dear, a smoking-room! Those peo- 
ple deride me ! Postively, I shall leave for Nice 
to-morrow ! Ah, my dear ! When I compare my 
life with yours ! . . . You are the happiest woman 
in Paris ! ” 


52 


THE CHARM BROKER. 


At those words, Nadia felt within her one of 
those sudden reactions to which her disposition was 
subject. She compared her almost perfect happi- 
ness with the life of that poor, isolated woman, 
given up to the caprices of inconsiderate friends, and 
her heart melted in a transport of tenderness and 
gratitude to Paul. What would she not have given 
to flee from that salon to which so many times he 
had besought her not to go ; to rush into the arms 
of him who was her all, whose love was worth more 
to her than all the pleasures of the world ! How 
she would have thanked him for the happiness which 
for four years he had afforded her. How she would 
have breathed in his ear, with overflowing heart : 

“ Ah, give it to me forever, this happiness ! Until 
my hair is white, until I die, and may Heaven re- 
ceive me last ! ” 

As she uttered those words in her imagination, 
her color became brightened, her eyes sparkled, she 
was truly pretty in her regret at being obliged to 
wait until the next day in order to repeat her prayer 
aloud. 

She was aroused from her tender dream by a 
burst of laughter near her. The General’s wife, 
suddenly consoled, laughed too, while a personage, 
unknown to Nadia, advanced slowly, staring at her 
with a cold, inquiring glance, which at first rendered 
her ill-at-ease. 

It did not take long to see that the newcomer was 
very handsome and unsympathetic, but better bred, 
better educated than the usual frequenters of 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


53 


Nathalie’s salon. Addressing the latter, but without 
removing his eyes from Mme. Fresnel, he said, in a 
drawling, languid tone : 

“ Always merry, cousin, as I see?” 

“My God ! Edmund, I did not expect you ! ” 

“You must be mistaken. * You know very well 
that I never miss coming to wish you a Happy New 
Year.” 

“You are a model relative. But surely to-day is 
the twenty- fifth of January ! ” 

“ There is the rest of the month ! Besides, you 
should have received my bonbons on New Year’s 
eve. You have already forgotten them, ingrate!” 

“Your bonbons!” exclaimed Nathalie; “Your 
bonbons ! Do you think that I ate them ? ” 

Then prudently putting an end to that bitter-sweet 
conversation, and turning to Mme. Fresnel, she 
said : 

“ My dear friend, permit me to present to you the 
Marquis de Roqueserviere, my nephew.” 

Edmond bowed and was preparing to pay some 
compliment to his aunt’s “ dear friend.” He was 
prevented from so doing by a deep voice, almost 
masculine in its volume, which said near him : 

“ Good evening, Cantors.” 

A tall young woman, with a distinguished air, 
glided over the carpet toward him. 

With both hands she held up her very simple, 
woolen gown in such a manner that she showed her 
silk stockings and her pretty feet, encased in the 
pink uniform of the ballet. 


54 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Well ! ” said Roqueserviere, without any surprise; 
“ Are you going to the Opera ? ” 

“ On the contrary, the Opera has come with me.” 

Nathalie’s room was deserted. The presence of the 
handsome Roqueserviere was too rare an event not 
to excite the curioshy of the, men as well as that of 
the women. The last to leave that “ grove” was — 
Lucien Sireuil. 

He perceived Nadia, who, in her turn, saw him. 
He shook his finger at her threateningly. A 
moment later, far from the group of which the Mar- 
quis was the centre, they seated themselves on a 
sofa near the door. 

“No! ’’cried Nadia, stopping up her ears. “No 
sermon! I advise you not to condemn Nathalie’s 
salon ! You are its principal ornament. What are 
you doing here, severe man ? ” 

“ Looking for work.” 

“Well, whom are you to separate among all this 
goodly company ? ” 

“ There is nothing to be done here. I have this 
evening only found here two women still married. 
Bad clients for a lawyer ! M. de Talamont requires 
only one thing of his wife : that she shall have no 
lovers, and in that way she is protected. As for 
Mme. Yalleroy, she can have all the lovers she 
wants, her husband would not give me employ- 
ment.” 

“I do not understand.” 

“ Thank God ! If you were to come here very often, 
I promise you that you would understand. See here, 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


55 


dear, good woman, you are near the door, no one is 
looking at you ; slip out without saying anything, 
and return home.” 

“ Upon my word, I was thinking of it. But tell 
me, first of all, who is this Marquis de Roqueser- 
veire ? ” 

“ One can see that you are from Bordeaux ! ” 

“ That was six years ago ! ” 

“ What have you been doing then ? Seriously, do 
you not know Roqueservtere, called Camors, the 
Lawyer, Blue-Beard ? ” 

“ No,” replied Nadia. “But why so many nick- 
names for one man ? ” 

“ Because at once he is the most fatal of seducers, 
the most unwearying of arguers, and, finally, because 
he has two lawful wives in the cemetery.” 

“ How old is he ? ” 

“A little more than forty-six ; but he says he is 
forty-eight, it being his rule to do nothing like 
other people. With regard to his marriages, he 
need not be pitied. He cared very little for his two 
wives ; for the second, least of all, married for her 
monejq which she bequeathed to him.” 

“ And the first ? ” 

“ The first had not a sou. He took her when she 
was seventeen, for love, and left her at the end of 
eighteen months for love too — of another ! Adven- 
ture seemed to seek him even in his wife’s chamber.” 

“How dreadful!” 

“And how improper! But the Marquis de 
Roqueserviere is the most proper man in the world ! 


56 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


He put an end to an unsupportable situation for 
his wife by casting her aside. Would it interest you 
to hear the names of his principal conquests ? ” 

“Not at all. But, from what I can see, he is not 
remarkable for discretion.” 

“ Dear Madame, Louis XI Y. was, I believe, the 
most prudent of men. Yet Mesdames de Lavalliere, 
de Fontange, de Montespan and several others were 
compromised by him.” 

“And where are we now with this handsome 
gentleman ? With Mme. de Main tenon ? ” 

“ Oh ! not yet. In the evening, in a coat, Koque- 
serviere is always incomparable, as you can see. 
Turn towards him. Let us suppose that at this 
moment you are on the point of falling madly in 
love with him — ” 

“It would be your fault! But, let us suppose 
so!” 

“ One evening, while you are still struggling, you 
find yourself seated, at a ball, beside one of his 
ancient sweethearts; a grandmother with rabbit’s 
eyes and a neck like a turkey-hen. You look at 
her ; you think that there is a question of your hav- 
ing the honor of becoming her colleague; you medi- 
tate upon it ; Boqueserviere’s very humble servant. 
One of these days they will close the Invalides. Do 
you know why ? For the same reason ; the young 
people no longer want it. The wounded of Tonkin 
do not like to meet there the wounded of Waterloo 
who call them ‘ comrades.’ That savors too strongly 
of the ‘ brother, we must die,’ of La Trappe. ” 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


57 


“ What has the poor Marquis done to you? You 
detest him.” 

“ Ah ! you are mistaken, I owe him too many 
cases. I only blame him for one thing ; it is for hav- 
ing become, as he grew old, so sententious and 
pedagogish. He does not lack intelligence ; but his 
intellect is as airy as those stone flowers which 
crown the brows of statues. However, it is not his 
fault, he is from Auvergne! Are you going, Yal- 
leroy ? ” 

“I am not going, I am running away,” replied 
the person questioned, who was indeed beating a 
retreat. “ Roqueserviere is proving scientifically to 
those ladies that they are wrong to paint and to dye 
their hair. It seems to me he is a disciple of Pro- 
fessor Petdeloup.” 

“ Eh ! ” said Nadia, who was not interested in the 
subject ; “I think that the speaker shows a certain 
amount of courage.” 

“ Say a certain cruelty,” replied Yalleroy. “Look 
at the restoratives on the face of that poor Countess 
with whom Roqueserviere refused to elope at the 
time of Sadowa, and judge of what it would be 
without repairs.” 

The faithful apostle disappeared, leaving Mme. 
Fresnel to continue her conversation with Sireuil. 
An instant later, Yalleroy reappeared. 

“Gentlemen and ladies,” he cried, “a melting 
snow is falling, which is turning the sidewalk into a 
veritable bog. Some one has gone to fetch me a 
fiacre. Who wishes to go with me ? ” 


58 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 




Immediately parties began to form for the return 
home. Princess Vampire undertook to leave her 
two cavaliers at their doors, Valleroy took the Aus- 
trian Baroness, confiding his wife to Providence and 
to the good care bf an old diplomatist serious enough 
not to compromise anyone. Mme. de Talamont dis- 
appeared with an American girl, fair and pretty, 
whom she had introduced that evening. 

“ Madame,” said Marquis de Roqueservidre, turn- 
ing to Nadia, “My carriage is at your service. In 
this neighborhood fiacres are very scarce in such a 
deluge, the General’s wife informs me.” 

Mme. Fresnel glanced at Nathalie, then at the 
Marquis, and replied, without her hearers being able 
to decide if it were candor or malice : 

“ But, sir, if I accept, how will you get home ? ” 

Roqueservidre, somewhat disconcerted at first, 
stammered that it could be arranged. 

With her most gracious smile, Nadia replied that 
she was much obliged, that with patience a fiacre 
would be found, and that moreover ' from rue de 
Monceau to rue Saint-Thomas was a journey which 
she would not think of imposing on his horses. 

The ladies thought Nadia’s conduct prudish. As 
for the men, the snub given to the handsome Camors, 
who did not condescend to recognize them on the 
street, pleased them very much. But the general 
opinion was that it was bold. An unknown woman 
to refuse to enter a coupe which conferred as much 
chic as formerly the King’s carriages gave to the 
nobility. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


59 


“ He would not have eaten you, my dear,” said 
the General’s wife, when Roqueserviere had departed 
alone. “You will not receive attention every day 
from a man like that.” 

“ Nor you, either, from what I have just seen. But 
attention too soon is not politeness.” 

“ Must one then know a woman ten years in 
order to leave her at her door when it rains ? ” 

“ Ten years are too long — but ten minutes are 
not enough. What can you expect ? I have been 
brought up in the country. Good-night, do not be 
angry.” 

On reaching home, Nadia was vexed to find that 
Paul had been there. 

“ What a pity,” thought she, “ that I went to 
Nathalie’s. I can fancy how furious he was. How- 
ever, I have done nothing wrong and I had diver- 
sion.” 

“ She hoped to see Cherancy the next day. In- 
deed, at three o’clock the bell rang ; but it was not 
Paul. On the card handed to her, Nadia read, with 
some vexation : 

Marquis de Boqueserviere. 

At first, instinct bade her refuse to see him. But 
after her rudeness of the preceding evening that 
would not do. She changed her mind, gave the 
sign, and the enemy entered the room. 


YII. 

In the Bois that morning, Roqueservi6re, on horse- 
back, had met Mme. Talamont driving in her buggy 
in spite of the cold. They entered into conversa- 
tion, which did not always happen, for they were 
very good friends, but friends who did not mince 
matters ; in other words, who detested one another. 
They detested and at the same time respected one 
another — in their fashion. 

The Marquis considered Elizabeth superior to the 
others, because she w T as the only one who had never 
been seriously smitten in the amorous comedies 
which he played with such inimitable art. That 
raised her above the general contempt with which 
he regarded women. They treated one another as 
comrades although there was a generation between 
them. 

For some time each had known that the other 
was invulnerable. It could not be said that they 
avoided one another, but they certainly made no 
effort to meet. 

“My poor Bess, do you always keep low com- 
pany ? ” said Roqueserviere, letting his cob walk be- 
side the buggy, while he warmed his hands. 

“ Well, and you ? ” replied the lady. “ I advise you 
not to boast of your exploits of last night. Since 
when have you known the virtuous bourgeoise f 
60 


THE CHARM BROK'EH. 


61 


Edmond, who had already forgotten Nadia, made 
a sincere gesture of ignorance. 

“Come!” persisted Mme. de Talamont. “You 
know very well! That pretty, little fair woman, 
who gave you the cold shoulder last night.” 

“ Indeed, who is it ? ” asked JRoqueserviere, sudden- 
ly recollecting. “ Is she virtuous ? My good aunt 
then, wished to prepare a surprise for her guests ? ” 

“ She has succeeded, at any rate as far as you are 
concerned. You were thoroughly surprised. To 
refuse a seat in your coupe! Not to wish to be 
compromised by you ! Confess that it was the first 
time that a woman played you such a trick ! Truly ! 
It was very comical, and reminded me of the story 
of Bidel’s lion.” 

“ What story ? ” asked Roqueservi£re. 

“ One day, as he _was walking in the country, 
Bidel engaged a bold fellow to clean his animals. 
The following morning, do you know what the 
tamer saw on making his rounds ? The fellow had 
entered the fiercest lion’s cage and was washing his 
snout with a sponge with a self-satisfied air ! The 
king of the desert, stunned, suffered himself to be 
washed, and, I am sure, contemplated the peasant 
with the same air which you had when you stared 
at Mme. Fresnel,” 

“What was that virtuous Mme. Fresnel doing at 
Nathalie’s?” 

“ Feeding upon the sight of our depravity, I sup- 
pose. She comes, seats herself on the edge of a 


62 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


chair, listens, stares, says nothing and goes away.” 

“ Is she divorced ? ” 

“Yes ; but, as the saying goes, all the faults are 
on the side of the husband, who is over the Ocean.” 

“ And she is really virtuous ? ” 

“ More than virtuous. She has never had a lover 
ascribed to her.” 

“ Do you know her ? ” 

“ What ! my dear, are you already seeking her 
address ? ” 

“ Well, no, I do not know it. Let us drop the 
subject. I am freezing.” 

They parted, the one very much pleased at having 
humiliated that proud conqueror, the other think- 
ing of the story of the lion which that tease would 
tell everyone. 

Koqueservi^re was not from Auvergne . for noth- 
ing: he did not let the opportunity slip. Two hours 
had scarcely passed before he had found out from 
Nathalie Mme. Fresnel’s address. 

On leaving rue de Monceau, he set out at once 
for the number indicated on Boulevard Saint Ger- 
main. 

After the information given him by the General’s 
wife with the usual kindness of a daughter of Eve 
speaking of one of her sisters, handsome Edmond 
had pictured to himself in advance the entrance he 
would make: the cook in a dirty apron, wiping her 
fat fingers before taking the card and losing her 
head at the sight of a Marquis; the mistress of the 
house surprised in a flannel dressing-gown, or else 


THE CHARM BR0KEM. 


63 


flying, to escape detection, towards her dressing- 
room, and reappearing in her most bewildering toil- 
ette hastily donned. 

Instead of that, a neat maid held towards him a 
silver tray, examining him from head to foot with a 
cold stare. Then, after keeping him long enough to 
do away with all thoughts of eagerness to receive 
him, he was ushered into a salon, small but not at 
all vulgar, where an elegant lady, seated by the fire- 
place, w r atched him enter. 

Nadia, for it was she, pointed to a chair. She 
was never timid in her own house. In her eyes 
could be read this saucy warning : If you utter a 
word which displeases me, I will put you out-of- 
doors like the others. 

She was mistaken in thinking that he was like 
the others in Nathalie’s salon. 

Certainly, in his heart, he did not respect women ; 
but he invariably accorded them, whatsoever they 
might be, the exterior deference imposed by a gen- 
tleman’s’ education. 

“ Madame,” he commenced, judging of the ground 
with his incomparable glance, “ I did not count this 
morning on having the honor of seeing you to-day. 
But a friend whom I met made me fear that I dis- 
pleased you yesterday.” 

“ Displeased me, sir ? I do not remember.” 

“ So much the better ! She was mistaken, then. 
However, when I offered you my carriage, you 
seemed . . . what shall I say ? . . . offended.” 

“ Oh, sir ! How your friends exaggerate l I was 


64 


THE CHARM BR0KEK. 


not offended ; at the most, I may have been sur- _ 
prised. To be frank with you, I was in the wrong. 

I should have remembered that at Mine. Sautey- 
ron’s, gentlemen frequently escort ladies home. 
But I am uncivilized. I should be exhibited at the 
Zoological Garden ! ” 

“ I fear,” said Roqueserviere, “ that you would not 
make much money there. The Parisians only like 
those who flatter them, and not those who condemn 
them.” 

Thus, from the first, the Marquis entered upon his 
favorite role of a severe but just man, and Radia 
could not refrain from smiling as she thought that 
the irreverent Yalleroy had called him “M. Petde- 
loup.” Then she smiled with satisfaction at herself, 
at the thought that she had courage enough to 
smile, shut up all alone with the dangerous Roques- 
erviere. The thought of all the great ladies, excel- 
sencies, duchesses, princesses, in whose drawing- 
rooms that wonderful man had sat, as he was seated 
there near her. She was possessed with a desire to 
know how he had broken the ice on those occasions. 
Rot by talking philosophy and worldly morals, to 
be sure, as he was doing at that moment. But his 
object was not the same to all appearances, and cer- 
tainly Radia did not think of complaining. 

She recalled what Sireuil had said to her : “ That 
man has brought misfortune to the majority of 
women whom he has conquered, beginning with his 
two lawful wives.” 

Revertheless, in listening to her visitor’s conver- 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


65 


sation she did not find him as prosy as she had been 
warned he was. 

.She respected him for being so sensible and was 
pleased to find him so unpretentious. 

She gravely agreed with him, not daring to con- 
tradict that interlocutor who spoke like Solomon. 
Without thinking of giving offence, she resumed her 
embroidery, which did not at all please the hand- 
some Edmond. That little woman whom he had 
come to put in her place was counting stitches 
before him ! Bidel’s lion, in seeking his revenge for 
the sponge, pricked his nose with a needle ! 

In thirty minutes”the Marquis took his leave, his 
eyes sparkling, his chin thrown forward, his should- 
ers bent, all of which signs denoted a doubtful 
humor. On the other hand, Mme. Fresnel experi- 
enced the satisfaction of the young soldier emerg- 
ing from battle. Perhaps, in her heart, she would 
have liked to have seen her bravery tried by a more 
serious cannonade ; but no one could deny that she 
did not look contented. In the evening Paul arrived ; 
his manner was somewhat cold. 

“ I shall not ask you where you were last night,” 
said he. 

“You do well, I should be obliged to confess 
that I was at Nathalie’s.” 

And, as he opened his mouth for a reprimand into 
which he intended to put all the force of which he 
was capable, and that was not much : 

“No sermon ! ” said she, sealing his lips with a 
kiss. “ I have already had one to-day ! ” 


66 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Then, delighted at the unusual pleasure of being 
able to tell an interesting story, she recounted her 
adventure with Koqueserviere, making a little fun 
of him, but not too much, for she wished to have the 
luxury — rare enough — of rendering Cherancy jealous. 

The imprudent man, however, committed the 
error of exhibiting no jealousy. 

“ I know the rogue,” said he. “ I even painted 
one of his teams for him. You are not the woman 
he wants. You may rest easy. You will not see 
him again.” 

She saw him again, nevertheless, the following 
week, and she was pleased that Paul had been mis- 
taken. Koqueserviere found her more indulgent. 
He inquired into her private life as he would have 
into the construction of an interesting building, ex- 
amining, finding fault, advising advantageous im 
provements. 

What he did not say was that the object suited 
him very well, and that he was not far from under- 
taking the improvements. He was tired of sensual 
women, of liaisons which caused him to retire late. 
Moreover, the women of pure blood of the second 
empire could no longer be reproduced. Subjects 
were becoming rare, and he himself was less appre- 
ciated by the “ saucy jades of the day,” as he called 
them. 

That calm Nadia, without bad habits, without 
ambition, without passions, without nerves — he 
thought, without a lover — he tried to think — was 
precisely the woman he required. 


THE CHARM BROKEN". 


67 


He hoped to make of her, not the asylum for his 
old age, he had not reached that, thank God, but one 
of those convenient “ heavens ” where the idler 
avoids.obstruction and rests from the bustle of the 
busy world. He returned with persistent regularit}^ 
counselling, instructing, reforming, sometimes 
severe, but always just and kind. 

Hadia, at first surprised, allowed him to talk on, 
but ended by doing as she pleased ; for she was not 
at all submissive. Then he retaliated by dwelling 
upon the sad position of a divorced woman, which 
left her so despondent that Cherancy had to take the 
consequences. 

As for the latter, religiously informed of each of 
Koqueserviere’s visits, his life was far from being a 
bed of roses. He cursed the Marquis for his assi- 
duity, cherished a feeling of ill-will towards Mme. 
Fresnel for receiving him, but did not dare to utter a 
word, lest he should appear jealous. When he found 
her downcast, he reprimanded instead of consoling 
her, as formerly. 

“ Come ! ” he scoffed ; “ Mephistopheles to-day 
enacted the church scene. He' reminded you that 
you were abandoned by God and men. He ex- 
horted you to remember the past, et cetera . I can 
hear him. Confess that only the organ was lack- 
ing ! ” 

Preached at from one side, overwhelmed with 
epigrams from the other, poor Hadia looked upon 
men as very tiresome. She no longer dared visit 
the GeneraPs wife for diversion, for fear of losing 


68 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Roqueservi&re’s esteem, for he spoke of that salon 
in a disparaging tone. Her great resource was in 
the architect’s wife, who came to her at any time, 
impelled by the hope, often realized, of there meet- 
ing a Marquis, and such a Marquis ! ” 

The shrewd diplomatist, after first having asked 
Mme. Fresnel how she could find pleasure in associ- 
ating with that “cook,” had relented on compre- 
hending what harm the cook in question could do 
him were she so inclined. One day, even on pass- 
ing, he had left two cards on the Lavissieres’ table. 
Since that time, Nadia’s very sensible friend spoke 
Of nothing but of her Marquis. 

“Ah, my dear, what a man! How intelligent he 
is ! How is it you are not raving over him ? Of 
what are you made ? ” 

The presence of the personage himself did not 
interfere in the least with Mme. Lavissiere’s trans- 
ports ; she would exclaim : 

“ Marquis ! You are too handsome ! What eyes ! 
Like sapphires ! And you say you are only forty? ” 

“ Forty-eight, Madame. Tell it to everyone. I 
am too well preserved ; it is absurd, I know it, but it 
is not my fault.” 

Then, while the architect’s wife feasted her eyes 
upon him, her bosom heaving, her nose in the air, 
Roqueserviere began a dissertation on the vanity of 
perishable personal advantages. 

“ Listen to him ! ” crieil his enraptured admirer 
“ It is as if a Rothschild were to preach of the un- 
importance of wealth.” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


69 


Indeed, before Nadia no one was mentioned but 
Boqueserviere, when Boqueserviere was not talking. 

At times even she experienced a feeling of dis- 
comfort. In the meanwhile she heard with great 
joy of the intention of her cousin, Countess de 
Chalonne, to visit Paris. It was the first time dur- 
ing her widowhood, or, to put it in other words, the 
first time for three years, that the Countess was 
about to see the capital once more. 


VIII. 

To say that the Countess had grown handsome 
could not exactly express it, but her beauty certainly 
seemed heightened — more accessible. Altogether, 
she was more womanly; undoubtedly more severe 
with regard to herself, but not so quick to perceive 
the weaknesses of others. She had, at certain times, 
something less assured in her glance, less abrupt and 
more vibrating in her voice. 

Paul, with his artistic eyes and ears, perceived the 
difference the first time he saw Claire de Chalonne 
after her bereavement. 

“If one did not know your cousin,” said he to 
Nadia, “ one might wonder at it. The loss of her 
husband has produced in her the same change which 
love ordinarily brings with it.” 

That which had changed the Countess thus was 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


70 

not the rupture of an old love nor the dawning of a 
new one. It was a discovery which it had taken 
her three years to make. 

One day in the large castle, bowed beneath the 
burden of sombre crape, she was surrounded by 
relatives, neighbors and friends, less occupied with 
the dead whom they had just seen lowered into 
the grave than with the living who remained. 

How could she live without him ? She had loved 
him so devotedly ! 

That mute question was to be read in all the eyes 
fixed on the young widow and her child whom they 
had thrust into her arms, as one would push a life- 
buoy toward a drowning man. The old Marquis 
de Chalonne and his wife, in order to cheer her, for- 
got the sorrow which was crushing them. The priest, 
the confidant of her pure secrets, said to her : 

“ Bare your breast humbly to the sword, faithful 
Christian.” 

She had not felt that sword, and her hand sought 
vainly for the wound. Bitter regrets, tender mem- 
ories stirred her bosom, but she did not feel the 
incurable wound which deep, eternal love, the love 
she had considered herself so proud to possess, leaves 
behind it. 

Perhaps the violence of the blow prevented her 
from feeling it at first. But time glided by, the 
days passed, months sped on, she did not feel the 
steel of the sword. On each of her visits to her be- 
loved dead, while she kneeled upon the cold mar- 
ble, from her eyes gushed the tears called forth by 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


n 


the loss of a dear friend. She was astonished, she 
was angry, she blushed for herself. In the secret 
recesses of her heart she reproached herself with 
being an unfaithful love, an ungrateful spouse. She 
could not even help thinking of her cousin. She 
recalled that evening when a single glance from 
Paul had rendered Nadia almost beside herself. 

“ By such fancies,” thought she, “ true passion is 
known. Nadia ! Nadia ! what would you do if he 
were to die ? ” 

Then, more calmly, she examined her own heart, 
and, beside the cold grave, she comprehended that 
which the warm intercourse of the conjugal hearth 
had not left her time to perceive. 

“ Still,” said she to herself, “ I kept for my hus- 
band all the thoughts of my childhood, all the en- 
thusiasm of my youth. No other man obtained 
from me a glance nor a thought. He overwhelmed 
me with a happiness for which my heart and my 
lips thanked him daily. I lived to make him happy. 
I would gladly have died for him. Each separation 
was to me a sorrow. And, still I did not love 
him ! . . What then is love ? ” 

It seemed to her as if she had fallen from a great 
height. She recollected the time when she had con- 
demned faithless, unloving wives. She grew very 
humble on discovering that chasm which left her 
imperfect and as if incomplete. It required all her 
courage to reconcile her to live thus, secretly low- 
ered in her own eyes. 


72 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Fortunately/’ said she, u I do not require love in 
order to train my child.” 

This was, from that time forth, her great object; 
and the child, remarkably intelligent, aided her in 
her efforts. Three years had flown. In the interim, 
Mme. Fresnel had paid several visits to La Pree, and 
each time the change in Claire was more marked. 
Her cousin seemed to descend from a pedestal and 
to make her mount it. She was just as affectionate, 
but more gentle, less determined in her counsels. 
She seemed gradually to abandon her role of an im- 
peccable elder sister. In that mood, she awed Nadia 
less and she made her less jealous. 

After her arrival in Paris, too, the Countess was 
monopolized by Mme. Fresnel, whose private life, 
already disturbed by Boqueserviere, had no longer 
the same mystery, the same charm it once had. At 
first, seeing that the Marquis was welcomed as an 
habitue. Claire de Chalonne, who knew him bv 
reputation, knit her brows, but less severely than she 
would formerly have done. Soon she became reas- 
sured. From what she could see, the man was .no 
longer a hermit ; he had turned preacher and only 
opened his lips to utter words of wisdom. 

Cherancy now appeared very frequently. Where 
the Marquis could go, he had no cause to re- 
main away, and henceforth Nadia had not the 
same right to exhibit jealousy and to practice exclu- 
sion. So those four persons met often in Mme. Fres- 
nel’s drawing-room. Too clever to pay attention to 
two women, especially when one of them lived so 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


73 


far away, Roqueserviere did not seem to pay much 
heed to the Countess, although she surpassed in 
beauty not Nadia alone, but many of the Parisian 
belles. For her part, Claire cared less about the 
Marquis’ polished sentences than for the bright, intel- 
ligent conversation of an artist and a sensible man 
like Paul. 

While listening to him with a pleasure increasing 
from hour to hour, she observed his manner towards 
Nadia and could not understand it at all. What 
had taken place between them ? How could Cher- 
ancy permit the attentions of a Roqueserviere with 
such perfect indifference ? 

Faithful to the compact imposed by herself, she 
did nothing to provoke her cousin’s confidence, but 
she grew sadder as the time drew near for her 
return to la Free. One day, Paul, struck by that 
sadness, said to her : 

“ When I gaze upon you, I feel angry wfith Fate. 
Why is it that the most perfect happiness should be 
destroyed by her envious hand ? The master- 
pieces of human felicity, as well as those of 
human art, should escape from the ruin. What 
supreme interest can keep the poor devils who have 
nothing at home with which to decorate their four 
walls from making a public museum of them, like 
the Louvre ? ” 

“But,” replied Claire, blushing somewhat, “why 
do you talk of the Louvre? Are you so destitute? 
Have you not happiness yourself?” 

“ Ah, happiness ! . . . I have a copy of it, per- 


74 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


haps. The original was in your possession. And yet. 
it is not you whom I pity, it is he whom death has 
deprived of you. It is true that he could not lose 
you in any other way. The bond which attached 
you to him was indissoluble, as strong as death 
itself.” 

Paul paused. For the first time he had detected 
the shadow of an allusion in Mme. de Chalonne’s 
conversation. Had she perchance divined anything? 

In the course of a few moments during which his 
eyes had not left the Countess, he resumed : 

“ If you would permit me to paint you, I would 
represent you with the expression you have now, 
and I would write on the canvas Dante’s verses:” 

“ 4 For him who suffers, there is no danger greater 
than the memory of happiness gone forever.’ ” 

The hour grew late. Claire, without replying, 
took leave of her cousin and returned to her hotel. 
Before going to sleep, she drew near the bed on 
which lay her daughter, and encircling her with her 
arms, she exclaimed passionately : 

“ Ah ! faint heart ! ungrateful heart ! ” 

“ Of whom are you speaking, Mamma ? ” asked lit- 
tle Marthe, suddenly awakened. 

“Of some one whom you do not know, and 
whom no one knows, my child. Sleep and be 
happy.” 

ISTadia did everything in her power to persuade 
her cousin to delay her departure. But Mme. de 
Chalonne was inflexible. She offered as a pretext 
her daughter’s health. The child, indeed, was out- 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


75 


growing her strength. At the doctor’s advice, the 
mother and child were to pass the entire season in 
the mountains. The month of June began. It was 
necessary to return to la Pree to make preparations 
for a long absence. 

Mme. de Chalonne set out. The evening of her 
departure Paul and Nadia were alone in the tiny 
salon in which they had spent so many pleasant 
hours. 

“ At length ! ” exclaimed Cherancy, opening his 
arms. It was, as they express it, an evening of the 
good, old times. Once again in their lives, those 
two beings enjoyed intimacy, tenderness, confidence. 
They spoke only of themselves, making, for the sum- 
mer which was commencing, a thousand mysterious 
and delightful projects. It seemed to them that 
Roqueserviere had never existed, but they did not 
mention him. At a sign from the master of her 
heart, Mme. Fresnel would have closed her door to 
all the Roqueservieres in the world. 

The following day, on awakening, Nadia received 
a bouquet with these words : 

“You must be very sad this morning. Permit a 
devoted friend to fill somewhat, with these flowers, 
the void left by your charming cousin. Roqueser- 
viere. ” 

The young lady was deeply touched by the atten- 
tion and told herself that a selfish man would not 
have thought of it. As for Paul, to whom the mat- 
ter was referred, he was forced to agree that the 


76 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


note was not anything exceptional and that the 
gift of- the flowers was not either. 

“ It is a bouquet for a virtuous woman,” he 
declared. “ Roqueserviere is a master in the art of 
shades.” 

He spoke with an ironical smile, but, beneath the 
irony, Mme. Fresnel thought she could divine vexa- 
tion. 

“Would you like me to send these flowers back ? ” 
she asked suddenly. 

“ It is too late, now. Moreover, what right would 
I have to order you ? I am not your husband.” 

The reply was not a happy one. Nadia knew 
only too well that she had' no husband. Wounded 
in her sensitive point, she said to Paul : 

“You are only my love, it is true. But you have 
assured me so often that you would like to be my 
husband ! 

Her eyes were filled with tears. Paul, himself 
again, clasped her in his arms : 

“And I tell you so once more,” said he. “On 
my honor and on our love, I would marry you to : 
morrow if I could ! ” 

It seemed, however, as if Roqueserviere had 
awaited the departure of Mme. de Chalonne, if not 
to unmask his batteries, at least to draw them 
nearer with patient tranquility. The mouths of these 
cannon were not yet distinguishable, but one could 
see, laid out in line, the green Hillocks which would 
have presaged no good to the eyes of a besieged 
having more experience, 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


77 

The severe but just man turned to the flatterer 
and optimist. The professor fell in admiration 
before the progress of his pupil. He had half fabri- 
cated, half discovered a new Nadia, serious, formal, 
reasonable, laying out the slightest words and 
actions with a line, as a gardener plants his cab- 
bages. He had proclaimed her a “ superior woman,” 
and, with that word he had led her into the ring 
like a circus-rider. 

Since her promotion to the grade of “ superior 
woman.” Mme. Fresnel nourished against Paul a 
secret displeasure. Yainly, when they were alone, 
did she thrust her new laces before his eyes. The 
blind man refused to see them. He treated her as 
a gracious, good, true and beloved woman, as a 
“ superior woman,” and, to be revenged upon him, 
she treated him as a superficial man only apprecia- 
ting m others secondary qualities. What a differ- 
ence between him and the Marquis! 

The latter deigned occasionally to descend to 
things of the flesh, and to be amusing. He related 
stories of the Court of the Second Empire, or else 
the tittle-tattle of the club. 

At such times he exhibited a certain skepticism 
and experience . He avowed that above the most 
sincere fidelity and the most rigid virtues, soared 
victoriously the fatal spirit of ruin, and that that 
mighty spirit had condescended on more than one 
occasion to lend him his wand. He uttered these, 
words not boastfully, but with an air of conviction 
his eyes glowing: and poor Nadia, more troubled 


78 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


than she cared to appear, glanced sideways at the 
Marquis’ cane, fearing to see it grow to the size of a 
magical sceptre. Still, the arrival of bouquets con- 
tinued. They appeared regularly Wednesday and 
Saturday mornings, as Paul sneeringly remarked, on 
the day after the flowers were sold at the Madeline : 
for some time his disposition had not been very 
amiable. “That Koqueserviere has always,” said 
he, “ been famous for profiting by occasions” 

Nadia, enervated, took a dislike to men, bouquets 
and love in general. Not once, since the Marquis 
had visited her, had a word been uttered which the 
world might not have heard. And yet she felt 
disturbed. 

“ Why did I go to Nathalie’s ? ” she groaned 
“ Why was I left alone that evening ? ” 

Towards the end of June Koqueserviere thought 
that the time had come, and poor Nadia heard the 
anthem which so many others before her had heard 
from the same lips. He uttered the words calmly, as 
great artists sing a cavatine in Italian, caring more 
for the music than for the gestures. He was neither 
violent nor ungentlemanly, nor seemed anxious, 
although he was, for the season was almost over. 

No one could ever have imagined his surprise 
when Mme. Fresnel, at the first overtures, rejected 
him, as she had done so many others. Nadia re- 
peated to him, emphasizing the words, that she 
could not give herself to him, that he was entirely 
mistaken in supposing to the contrary, and that she 


THE CHARM BROKEK. 


79 


had never expected the honor of his acquaintance 
to go so far. 

At no time of his life had the handsome Marquis 
been so near swearing in the presence of a refined 
lady. However, he restrained himself, and, as he 
was to dine at seven o’clock with a Viscountess de 
Saint Rieul, whose head he was beginning to turn; 
he rose without any further discussion and took his 
leave with a grave air : 

“ Au revoir, madame,” said he, simply, in a tone 
behind which could be distinguished the famous 
wand. 

In his heart, he experienced more ennui than 
anger, and he even felt somewhat uneasy. 

He was wounded less in his Don- Juan-like self-love 
than in his reputation as an untouched man, not yet 
recognizing the bitter chagrin of no longer being 
able to do to-day what he could do yesterday. He 
felt the superstitious shock experienced by a gam- 
bler, lucky from the commencement of the game, but 
who fears to see fortune turn against him. 

“ Plague take the affected woman !” thought he. 
“ Am I one of those men whom the women reject 
without caring, hinting that they find them some- 
what mature ? The devil take me if that ingenious 
person did not fancy that I came to her house for 
her lovely eyes and her wit ! Positively she would 
have been struck with amazement if I had explained 
the question. She was not even afraid ! My lovely 
child, patience! No one scoffs at Roqueservtere.” 
However, Nadia, while apparently composed, was 


80 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


more frightened than she seemed to be. That even- 
ing Cherancy did not recognize any change in her. 
She clung to him with that confiding^ childlike, 
rather humble tenderness which was her great 
charm, and which she had shown less, it must be 
avowed, since Roqueserviere, that great connois- 
seur, had especially favored her. 

Paul, that evening, was replaced upon his pedes- 
tal, flattered, cajoled, consulted, spoiled. But, less 
shrewd than the husband in the story, he did not 
know to what thief he was under obligations. 

Ah, that delightful evening! How happy he 
was on returning home ! What a long future of joy, 
of fidelity, of devotion, he saw before him ! With 
what enthusiasm he would accept a life passed, if 
necessary, entirely without domestic ties, in order 
to be forever the supportof that dear creature who 
had no one but him ! Moreover, one obstacle alone 
separated them, a man hidden in some part of 
America under a false name. To-morrow, Nadia 
might be free ! And then, before the entire world 
they would belong to one another forever. 

Poor blind creatures, poor fools that we are ! His 
heart would have ached had he known that, for the 
first time, Nadia hid a secret, and such a secret ! She 
was silent, to tell the truth, rather from prudence, 
than from lack of candor. She entertained for the 
Marquis only one sentiment : an intense rancor. 

“ If, however,” thought she, “ a feeling of true love 
had impelled him to say to me what he dared ! Oh, 
miserable loneliness which authorizes everything! 


THE CHARM BR0KEH. 


81 


Well! he will not return any more. It was a dis- 
agreeable dream I had. Certain dreams need not 
be recounted ! ” 


r 

IX. 

Nadia was mistaken ; the Marquis did return. 

His dinner at Viscountess de Saint Bieul’s had 
strengthened his mind, shaken by a passing shock. 
The other invited guests retired in good season, 
and, as the Viscount, a great sportsman, had gone 
to- the races, Koqueservi^re, left alone, had no occa- 
sion to be dissatisfied. It had been proven to him 
in a peremptory manner that he was always young, 
and that women had every conceivable reason for 
fearing him. 

The Viscountess had a mansion on rue Galilee, a 
castle at Poitou, and when she did not appear at 
the Opera on Friday evening eighteen hundred 
people wondered : 

“ What has happened to Mme. de Saint Eieul ? ” 

But Boqueserviere — many others are modeled 
from the same pattern — would have given a dozen 
duchesses ready to say “yes” for the little woman 
without a castle, a mansion or a box at the Opera 
who said “no.” That “no” was an ill-omen, in spite 
of everything, and the matter, leaking out, would 
prove a bad example. It was absolutely necessary 
that Nadia’s “ no ” should become “ ves.”. 

So the Marquis reappeared at Mme. Fresnel’s, and 


82 


THE CHARM RROKEtf. 


no later than the day after his check. But the 
night had brought wisdom : he had reflected. He 
was another Roqueserviere, vanquished in love, and, 
that goes without saying, in love for the first time 
in his life. Mme. Fresnel did not anticipate that 
and did not even think it necessary to forbid admis- 
sion to that new convert. At first, surprise deprived 
her of the power of speech. 

“ Alas ! ” groaned the good apostle, “ I am the 
more surprised of the two. In love at my age, after 
the mad life I have led ! For a month, I have blushed 
as if ashamed of the sentiments dawning in my 
heart, frozen until this time. I wished to hide my 
weakness from you. With }^ou I feigned cynicism, 
as with the others I played at passion. Ah ! but 
you have avenged them gloriously ! How they 
would smile at my defeat could they see me to-day ! ” 

"Unfortunately for Hadia, those ladies were too 
far away to laugh, and could not aid her with their 
experiences. Tell me that women are credulous on 
such a subject ! Certainly Mme. Fresnel would not 
have wagered a large sum on the sincerity ' of 
Roquegerviere’s love ; but after all, if novels are to 
be trusted, nothing is more common than for a 
mature man of the world to fall a victim to such an 
accident. 

“ Let us be friends and you go away,” she pro- 
posed. 

“ I will try to be your friend,” said he, with a 
heart-rending sigh, “or, at least, I will love you 
with a love so disinterested that you will not be 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


83 


able to forbid me. But to leave you ! Do not ask it 
of me ! — Let me see you, hear your voice which at 
one and the same time distracts and calms me. 
Yesterday I was beside myself, but do not fear a 
relapse. My fate was to end in a sincere love. 
What destiny does accomplish ! Fear nothing from 
a man whom you have chained and who blesses his 
bonds.” 

He was not, however, bound by so short a chain 
that he could not make grand gestures, fall upon his 
knees, raise his arms to heaven, clasp his forehead 
with his hands, then suddenly kiss those of Nadia 
as he would have kissed a reliquary. 

Assuredly, the prisoner she had just captured, in 
spite of herself, embarrassed the young woman very 
much, and yet, since he had reassured her, he began 
to interest her. She glanced at him curiously, as 
she would have examined, before freeing it, a swal- 
low which had made its way into her room. 

“ How different from Paul ! ” thought she, when 
the bird had gone. “What a torrent of words! 
What a hurricane ! I can understand that a woman, 
coquettish and thoughtless, might have her head 
turned somewhat.” 

She herself experienced several symptoms of ver- 
tigo. From that time, the Marquis’ letters even 
showered upon her, or, rather, arrived with the reg- 
ularity with which a stream of water drops upon 
and wears away the stone. One came in the morn- 
ing, one in the evening. She had read the first to 
see if she could read it. She read those which fol- 


84 


THE CHARM BROKEtf. 


lowed as one reads the continuation of a well-written 
interesting novelette. Letter- writing was, indeed, 
the Marquis’ strong point; his somewhat dull wit 
accommodated itself better to writing than to speak- 
ing. His letters were masterpieces. Delicate and 
deep thoughts, perfect caligraphy, nothing was lack- 
ing, not even a comma. They might have been 
used, according as occasion demanded, as models of 
sentiment, of style or of penmanship. 

Cherancy, it will be understood, was not permitted 
to enjoy them. Before showing them to him, it 
would have been necessary to tell him many things 
which from day to day became more difficult. Each 
day, too, the Marquis’ visits grew longer. 

Hadia received them with a mixture of curiosity 
and fear, experiencing, at a familiar peal of the bell, 
a slight shudder which was not without its charm. 
Moreover, she did not feel guilty. Roqueserviere, 
faithful to his promise, suffered in silence. 

One morning, instead of the usual four pages, the 
Marquis’ letter only contained these words : 

“ I can stand it no longer 1 Your affectionate and 
patient kindness rend my heart more than would 
the rudest treatment. That miserable torture can 
not last. When you read these lines I shall be^ far 
away. — Where ?— What matters it to you ? — Adieu ? ” 

“ Poor Marquis ” thought Mme. Fresnel, slightly 
moved. “ Why did he not come to tell me that he 
was going ? I would have given him a kind word.” 

Her conscience eased by that departure, Hadia 
was only the more disposed to pity. All that day 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


85 


she was sorry for the traveler; but on the next, 
and on those which followed, she was sorry for her- 
self. The hours seemed long to her. She felt 
somewhat stunned, her ears buzzed and her temples 
throbbed, as so often happens when one passes from 
a loud bustle into sudden silence. At the end of a 
week she confessed that she could spare anyone 
rather than Roqueserviere. She thought of him 
constantly. On the fifteenth day she said to her- 
self: 

“ My God ! Suppose he should never return ! ” 

She understood, then, the inevitable and fatal 
fascination of which he had often told her. She 
feared it more since the fascinator was far away, as 
one fears an invisible, hidden weapon. 

She fancied she felt the magician enveloping her 
in his magnetic passes, lulling her will to sleep at a 
distance. 

In the midst of that languor she saw her door 
open, then close. Roqueserviere, disheveled, pale, 
emaciated, fell rather than kneeled upon the carpet. 
Ilis excitement was startling and seemed to border 
on madness. 

“ I can not help it ! ” he moaned. “ It is stronger 
than I ! I was at the other end of France, but I was 
obliged to return, to see you, to hear you again ! . . 
Nadia! . . my queen! my tormentor! my idol! . . 
Shall I then never be anything to you but a stranger 
to whom your heart can not accord the smallest 
space ? ” 


86 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Leave me, for pity’s sake ! ” she murmured, not 
knowing what she said. 

“ Ah ! merciless woman ! I would fly to the end of 
the earth, if by that means I could win your love ! ” 
“Go, then,” she replied, distracted, stunned, 
intoxicated. “It is I who ask mercy of you! You 
will ruin me ! ” 

“ Nadia ! Do you love me ? ” 

“Yes,” she moaned, closing her eyes. 
Koqueserviere, triumphant, was already upon his 
feet, but it was not to fly. With her hands she 
repulsed him, with so much force that he almost 
lost his balance. 

He was shrewd ; he saw that by taking one more 
step at that moment he would risk winning the 
battle. In a transport of delight he kissed the hem 
of Nadia’s gown; then, standing erect, radiant, 
transfigured, he exclaimed : 

“That is sufficient joy for one day. You have 
just afforded me more happiness than I have received 
from any other woman. I am yours for life.” 

With those words, he disappeared, in order to seek 
repose ; for he had not told an untruth when he said 
he had come from a distance. He came from the 
frontiers of Spain and he required rest. 


X. 


In the evening, when Paul arrived at his friend’s, 
he did not find her, as usual, installed in the little 
low easy chair from which she watched him enter, 
smiling, awaiting his first caress. Mounted on a 
stool, she was taking infinite pains to arrange a 
drapery, the effect of which she seemed to be trying. 
In that work, which was not at all urgent, the 
young woman — as a rule not given to working — 
seemed completely absorbed. 

Paul, very fond of such work in his capacity of 
an artist, hastened to take off his hat, to send for a 
ladder and the requisite tools. In fifteen minutes, 
with the most minute care, without sparing any 
pains, he had finished the work begun by Xadia. 
As he put in the last nails, he said to her : 

“I could fancy that we are married and that I 
was settling our household.” 

On descending his ladder, he came near setting his 
foot on a kneeling human form, sobbing very low, 
its head in its hands. 

“ Nadia ! ” he exclaimed, trying to clasp her in 
his arms. “ For heaven’s sake, what ails you I” 

She repulsed him gently and her despair burst 
forth with startling violence. Her entire form was 
shaken by convulsive hysterics, beside which those 
that Paul had witnessed were as nothing. She 

8T 


88 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


attempted to speak, but deep sighs, heartrending to 
hear, alone escaped from between her lips. 

“ My dearest ! My beloved ! the support of my 
life ! ” said she, at length. “ For what a miserable 
creature are you taking so much trouble ! ” 

She fixed upon him her streaming eyes. She 
addressed him with clasped hands, her features 
expressing complete desolation. Cherancy, himself 
as pale as death, his heart oppressed by a dire pre- 
sentiment, listened to her with anguish, not daring 
to approach her. 

With an excitement which showed her trouble, 
she continued : 

“ My lovely flower-garden, I have devastated you 
with my own hands! I have trodden underfoot 
your pretty roses ? All is destroyed ! My house, 
built upon the solid rock, is in ruins. And now I 
must wander about, like a beggar without shelter. 
Paul ! Paul ! I have lost you ! Why did I not die 
sooner ? ” 

She was no longer weeping. Her tearless, dilated 
eyes shone like those of a madwoman. Cherancy 
made several fruitless efforts to speak, but his throat 
contracted. Finally he succeeded in asking the sim- 
ple question : 

“ Has M. de Koqueserviere returned ? ” 

She divined the other question, that which a gen- 
tleman, respectful to a woman to the last, generously 
spares her ear. With a bound, she rose : 

“ By my mother’s soul,” she cried, grasping his 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


89 


hands, “ I have not done the horrible thing which I 
read in your thoughts.” 

“ Then, what is it ? ” he asked, unable to compre- 
hend what he saw. 

She fell upon her knees "again, and once more 
uttered those moans so plaintive. 

“ But, great God ! Speak ! ” . . . said Paul. 

“ You will kill yourself and me at the same time.” 

“I do not know what Tie has done to me,” she 
groaned. “I do not understand it myself. He 
came, he came — Oh ! Paul ! why from the very first 
did you not command me to close the door upon 
him ? ” 

Cherancy maintained silence. He could say 
nothing until he knew all. 

“ Two weeks ago, ” she continued, “that man left 
suddenly. He was very much disappointed at 
obtaining no hope from me. He loved me devotedly 
and tried to induce me to fly with him.” 

“ He loved you devotedly ! Do you believe it, 
poor fool?” 

“I am more than a fool,” she replied, humbly. 
“ I am the maddest of the mad. My dear Paul, I 
love you as much as my heart is capable of loving. 
You would not believe me were I to tell you with 
what joy I learned of the departure of that man. 
For fifteen days you were kind, devoted, loving to 
me.” . . 

“Hot kinder, more devoted, more loving than for 
four years ! ” 

“ If you speak to me of those four years, my poor 


90 


T&E CHARM BROKEN. 


friend, I shall never come to the end of what I have 
to say to you. Yesterday he, whom I shall never 
name again, suddenly reappeared. I did not expect 
him. Moreover, my God ! I did not wish to see 
him ! He surprised, frightened, subdued me. I lost 
my self-control, and I told him ... I told him that 
which he desired to hear.” 

“ That you loved him ? ” said Paul, whose voice 
was so hoarse that it was scarcely audible. 

By a gesture, Nadia assented. Then Cherancy, 
with a firm step, advanced to the table on which he 
had laid his hat, and took it in order to go. He 
smiled almost pitifully on seeing the ladder, the 
hammer, the nails. He glanced at the drapery 
which he had just arranged with so much zeal in 
order to spare his beloved fatigue. Another, hence- 
forth, would render her those services. 

“When you look at that,” said he, raising his 
hand towards the material, “ you will think of me.” 

That was the only bitter word which Nadia was 
to hear from that strangely self-possessed man. 
Without turning his eyes upon her, he walked to 
the door. Nadia, still on her knees, turned to watch 
him to the last. 

“ I will think of you,” said she, in a voice as soft 
as music, “ until the last moment of my life. Every 
nook in this room will remind me of you. Paul ! 
listen to my last words ! You know that I never 
tell you an untruth! I love you! And always re- 
member one thing : by telling you nothing, by being 
less frank, I might have kept you.” 


91 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 

“ That is true,” said he, pausing on the threshold 
■“ I respect you for it. You are free, moreover. You 
belong to me by no bonds.” 

“ I belong to you by all the bonds which can 
enchain the heart and the body of a poor woman. 
At this moment, I love you as I have never loved 
you. As for him , I hate him ; he has ruined me. 
For without you, I am lost and you know it. Take 
with } 7 ou that revenge. It may comfort you some 
time if you need comfort.” 

“Who knows?” said Paul, his hand upon the 
bolt.” “ Why will you not be very happy with him ?” 

“ Oh ! my beloved ! do not be cruel ! I would 
have loved you more had you gone without saying 
anything. Paul ! God only knows what a miserable 
creature I shall be some day. But there is one man 
among them all with whom I shall have nothing 
to do. That man is he ! How could I forgive him 
for the hour we have just spent ? ” 

At that moment, Cherancy, raising his eyes, saw 
Nadia totter. 

“ Ah ! poor, little one ! ” he exclaimed, rushing 
towards her, “ do not grieve.” 

Once again she leaned her head on the breast upon 
which she had rested so often. She murmured, as if 
in a dream : 

“ No, I must not be ill. No one will care for me 
anymore. Dearest, do you remember my last illness ? 
It was not very serious and yet you wanted to watch 
beside me. I permitted you to do so for the pleasure 
of keeping you an entire night at my bedside, look. 


92 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


ing at me with your large, lovely eyes, as during 
that other night, the first, that on which we traveled 
together.” 

Paul, conquered, felt all his strength, all his 
dignity, all his pride, ebb away. 

“Listen,” cried he, clasping her in his arms. 
“ Perhaps we can still be happy. Let us go away ! 
It is not necessary for you to remain here. Your 
health will not stand the strain. To-morrow I 
will take you far away. Since } r ou say it has all 
only been a disagreeable dream, — and I swear that 
I believe you, — all can be effaced. A nightmare is 
easily forgotten.” 

“ You would do that! ” she exclaimed, trembling. 
“ You would do that ! There is, then, in the world a 
man capable of such a wonder ! ” 

“ I beseech you, be calm. Do not exalt my worth 
in such a manner. Nadia, I need you ; my life with- 
out you would be ruined. Your love is everything 
to me. Sole treasure of my heart, you can still love 
me, can you not ? ” 

“You ask if I can love you, my king, my god! 
But I have not yet loved you up to this time ! 
From now on, you shall see what the adoration, the 
devotion, the humble and passionate gratitude of a 
human soul can be ! Alas ! I have nothing to par- 
don — but you ! Will you be able to forget ? Will 
not that heroism which to-day intoxicates you 
appear in a week, in a month, the most stupid blind- 
ness ? ” 

Nadia wished to be convinced. Paul, in order to 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


93 


divert tier from the emotion which still caused her 
to waver, spoke instantly of the preparations for 
their departure and of their destination. They both 
were too much in need of repose and of composure 
to decide anything that evening. It was, however, 
essential to go away ; but, before leaving for any 
length of time, Cherancy would have to spend two 
days in the country in order to arrange a pressing 
matter of business. 

“Two days without seeing one another!” sighed 
the young woman. “ Oh, Paul ! ” 

“You will not have more than two days in which 
to pack your trunks. Fill them very full ; we shall 
go far away, and God knows when we will return. 
The day after to-morrow I must find you ready to 
start.” 

He stood erect, his hand upon the lock, and yet he 
did not leave the room, revolving in his head one 
last thing which he had to say — a painful thing, to 
judge by the frown upon his brow. 

“ It is not necessary,” he said at length, “ that the 
man should return to trouble you. Would it not be 
well — would it not be best to write him that you 
will be absent a long time ? ” 

“You fear his visit for me?” she replied, with a 
sort of ardent enthusiasm. “ Ah ! you do not know 
the need which fills my soul ! I long to see him, to 
speak to him, to take back from him a gage given 
in a moment of madness, those words which some 
witchcraft drew from me, to tell him that I do not 
love him, that I will never love him. I should never 


94 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


feel myself worthy to be yours again, if, first of all, 
I had not re-conquered myself.” 

Paul felt tempted to reply that for a woman the 
most ingenuous retreat was better than the most 
intrepid combat. 

But he did not speak, seeing the light which shone 
in the eyes of the warrior. Perhaps, too, he experi- 
enced some consolation in picturing to himself in 
advance the discomfiture of the invincible Marquis. 
He returned home and, the next day early in the 
morning, he set out for his estate of Beauce. He 
thought, on his return, that he could leave the 
“ same night ” with Nadia. But he found upon his 
table a letter which changed all his plans : it was 
from Mme. Fresnel, who wrote : 

“ He came and I told him all that I intended to. But I should 
have been too lightly punished if all had terminated so easily. 
I have to deal with a tenacious man, and, above all, with a man 
overflowing with pride. He can tolerate, it seems, that a woman 
should not love him; but the thought that the woman would 
reject him for another makes him furious. Indeed, he frightened 
me; not for myself. I divined that he would spy upon me; in 
other words, would find us out. Dearest, my honor is more 
precious to you than your life; your life is- my all here below. 
Both must be guarded; for a time I must sacrifice myself.” . . 

‘ * M. de Roqueservi&re had scarcely re-entered his carriage 
than I summoned my maid and began to pack my trunks. In 
two hours I shall start, and I swear to you that at the moment 
of writing I do not yet know whither I shall direct my flight, 
for it must be confessed that your poor Nadia’s brain is con- 
fused. 

“To-morrow morning, on regaining my self-possession, I will 
tell you where I am, where to write to me. But, my friend, you 
must not come to me. You must remain in Paris; you must be 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


95 


Seen everywhere; you must appear very happy. It must be so, 
for you will be watched, followed. By rejoining me sooner 
than is prudent, you might lose all. Paul, be good, merciful, 
patient. Forgive me this new trouble which I am bringing 
upon you. You have forgiven me many other things. Put 
yourself in the place of a still trembling woman, and be strong, 
you who are a man. Have confidence in the future and in my 
love, which is boundless, as it will always be. To-morrow a 
letter, very soon you, that means happiness and the end of all 
trials. Ah, God, how far off that seems!” 

Cherancy read that letter twice and tried his best 
to judge it calmly. On the one hand, his pride 
rebelled at the thought that Nadia should fly in order 
not to expose him to Roqueserviere’s ill-humor. On 
the other, he was forced to confess that on that 
occasion there was a question of more than a sword 
thrust given and received. A woman’s reputation 
was at stake. He yielded, witfr reluctance, perhaps ; 
but, after all, love, loyalty, devotion were expressed 
in every line he had just read. Moreover, he had 
not his choice for the conduct to be observed by 
him, since he was face to face with an accomplished 
fact. At any rate, it was a matter of only a few 
days, and he would soon know all about it. 

The day seemed interminable to him. Obeying 
the advice, the wisdom of which he could not dis- 
pute, he went everywhere, to the Acacias in the 
afternoon, to his club where he dined, to the circus 
where he saw “ all Paris,” with the exception of 
Roqueservi^re. The next day was exactly like the 
one preceding it. The dawn of the third morning 
found Paul awake, awaiting Nadia’s letter ; but the 


96 


THE CHARM BROKEX. 


postman brought him none. Twenty-four hours 
later, affairs were just the same. 

For the first time in four years the woman whom 
he loved had caused him sorrow, as she herself had 
said. Four years of tranquility interrupted only by 
the inequality of a nervous, restless disposition ! But, 
for four days, how dearly he had paid for it ail ! 
Incapable of controlling himself any longer, he 
repaired to Mme. Fresnel’s. The porter, very much 
surprised at such ignorance on the part of a man 
whom he had good reasons for believing better 
informed, replied, with a stare : 

“Why, sir, Madame left Wednesday evening.” 

Paul had the courage — degrading in his own eyes, 
—to question that man who knew his secret and 
guessed his torture. 

“Madame did not leave her address?” 

“ Madame said nothing.” 

Paul seemed so discontented that the porter was 
sorry for him. Heaven forbid that you should ever 
excite the commiseration of a porter ! 

“ But,” added the man, almost in a whisper, 
“Madame went to Montparnasse station ! ” 

Cherancy fled, blushing as if he had accepted 
alms. At that moment he was vexed with her who 
had subjected him to such affronts. With the 
instinctive need of venting his anger on someone, he 
committed the rash act of presenting himself at the 
Marquis’. Fortunately, he did not find Roqueser- 
viere there. 

“ Is the Marquis in Paris ? ” he asked. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


97 


This time he inquired of a female, who gave him 
the most minute details without any urging. They 
had not seen Roqueserviere since Wednesday eve- 
ning. But the next morning the Marquis’ valet had 
received a telegram, and, a few hours later, he had 
rejoined his master, taking with him a large valise. 
With regard to the destination Cherancy could learn 
nothing. 

“Mr. Dominique and I don’t speak,” said the 
portress, pursing up her lips ; “ he is a sly, disagree- 
able fellow, who thinks himself superior to everyone 
because he is his master’s confidential man. I only 
know that he went to Montparnasse station.” 

Paul fled, forgetting, in his agitation, to throw a 
louis to “M. Dominique’s” enemy. He returned 
home in order to collect himself in the midst of 
the crisis which disturbed his life, and, seating him- 
self at his table, his gloves still upon his hands, his 
hat upon his head, he stared into space. 

In a similar situation, the first cry which escapes 
a woman’s breast is : 

“ He no longer loves me ! ” 

Paul asked himself, as any other man would have 
asked in his place : 

“ Have I been her dupe ? ” 

At first he would not entertain the thought of a 
vulgar hoax, as needless as odious. 

Supposing that Mme. Fresnel had yielded to 
Roqueserviere’s importunities, or that she intended 
doing so, she had no need to employ so much 
mystery and so much, strategy. Three days before, 


98 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


Cherancy stood on the threshhold of her door ; she 
had only to let him go, with the tears more or less 
sincere which are, in such cases, the last tribute of 
a refined woman towards the lover she rejects. 
Cherancy had conducted himself well: no noise, no 
despair awakening pity, no threats against anyone. 

Moreover, that excited, trembling creature who 
had just given a fresh example of the frailty of 
woman had at the same time shown herself to be 
such, as he had always known her, that is to say, 
the most loyal of women and the most loving too. 
Poor Nadia ! Certain gestures, certain sighs, certain 
bursts of sorrow did not deceive. 

No, Boqueserviere was not with her ! 

But then, where was he ? At the same hour, on 
the same day, they had disappeared in the same 
direction without leaving any traces. All the 
reasoning, all the confidence in the world were not 
potent enough to destroy the unexceptionable argu- 
ment. The least one could do was to suspect. To 
suspect, oh shame ! To live face to face with the 
image of his own absurdity ! To feed his sorrow in 
inaction, or to inflict upon himself a thousand 
torments in order to hear one day the exclamations 
of two fugitives discovered in the shelter of their 
intoxication. 

Cherancy arose, shrugging his shoulders beneath 
the insupportable weight which oppressed them, and, 
without deciding between accusation and defense, 
he put aside the matter until the morrow, counting 
on the hours to come to furnish him with evidence. 


THE CHARM BROEEX. 


99 

u To-morrow night I will set out/’ he decided, “ if I 
have heard nothing new” 

The time passed ; then, having received no letter, 
and feeling assured of Eoqueserviere’s continued 
absence, he left Paris, carrying with him in his 
heart that disgust of self and of life which succeeds 
great disappointments. 


XI. 

, Two days later, Cherancy reached Cauterets, which 
was still empty, for July had scarcely begun. But 
he had counted on that solitude, and his intention 
was to fly to the mountains as soon as tourists arrived. 
He had hesitated first between the Pyrenees and the 
Alps. The picturesqueness, more warm, more easy, 
to embrace, of the Southern chain had determined 
his choice ; for it was more for painting than for trav- 
eling that he went. Cruelly wounded, Paul knew 
from experience that here below there was only one 
remedy against sorrow and that was work. The 
sound of human voices dulls sorrow, change of place 
diverts for the time being ; work alone, continued 
with a strong will, can cure it. Work is the only 
mistress which has never disappointed, never rejected, 
never deceived those who love her. 

Every morning Cherancy ascended the Lac de 
Gaube, where he had begun a study. That two hours’ 
climb in the shady gorge, wet with the dews of 


100 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


heaven and the vapor of the cascades, did him good. 
His lungs expanded, as he inhaled the odor of the 
pines. His heart, even, was less heavy, and that hour 
of the day seemed to him the best of all. 

At the shabby inn he found his canvas, his umbrella 
and his paints. Then he sought the spot he had 
chosen on the deserted edge of the blue waters, and 
set to work, making feverish haste in order to chase 
away importunate thoughts. The innkeeper, too, 
deceived by his application to work, thought him 
poor, and, with many requests that he would say 
nothing, offered to reduce his rates for him. 

Tourists were rare. Often Paul finished a sitting, 
not having had any other visitors than his host, the 
latter’s wife, a pretty woman with black eyes, and 
two charming little girls, always accompanied by a 
dog larger than they were. Occasionally huntsmen 
asked him for a light for their pipes ; or else some 
fisherman clattered his heavy sabots on the rocks 
below him, lashing the air with his pole. But the 
great admirers of his painting were the Spanish 
contrabandists, who crept about like cats, leaping 
from rock to rock, in spite of their enormous burden. 
They paused behind Paul to breathe, rolled a cigar- 
ette and pointed enraptured to the canvas on which 
rose Yignemale covered with snow. 

One day one of those innocent mountaineers 
amused Paul very much by asking him if one could 
see Yignemale from Paris. 

“No,” replied Paul, with a laugh; “the houses are 
in the way.” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


101 


But, the contrabandists gone, the poor fellow no 
longer felt a desire to laugh. 

“ I would to God,” thought he, " that this moun- 
tain was high enough to permit me to perceive the 
spot in which they are concealed! How rapidly 
I would have climbed it ! How comforted I should 
. feel after having chastised the wretched man who 
has ruined my life ! ” 

For he no longer doubted that he had been the 
victim of an adroitly planned ruse. 

“ And I,” thought he, his fists clenched, “furthered 
their plans by leaving Paris in order to let them 
depart at their convenience 1 ” 

That day at about five o’clock in the evening, on 
crossing the esplanade to return to his hotel, Che- 
rancy perceived, not without some vexation, that 
the number of bathers had doubled since the preced- 
ing day, and that he must plant his tent in a more 
peaceful spot. As he continued his walk, glancing 
at the promenaders among whom he feared to dis- 
tinguish familiar faces, he was aroused from his 
preoccupation by the sound of voices which cried 
quite near him : 

“ Down with the gendarmes! ” 

He paused, like a good Parisian, to watch the riot, 
and was reassured by the sight of the insurgents 
who, seated in a circle at the foot of a striped sentry- 
box, had for weapons only sugar batons that they 
brandished wildly. 

It was not the first time in his life that Paul had 
assisted at the quarrels of Punch with Pandora. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


102 


But the director of the theatre, Guignol, at Cauter- 
ets, was a clever man who had found the means of 
not only always having a full house, but of having 
as well an audience which plays the piece with him 
and for him. There the dialogue was changed from 
one side of the railing to the other. Punch talked 
with his spectators ; he had no secrets from them ; 
he received their advice, consulted them when 
needful, and did not disdain to interrupt his role to 
put his small wooden hand in the hand not much 
larger of subscribers who were late. 

He knew by name a number of those gentlemen 
and ladies ; he was a friend to them, and the last 
scene arrived, he asked them what termination they 
would prefer that day, punishment or escape, burial 
or marriage ? It mattered little to him, provided 
they were satisfied. 

Punch, too, could count forever on that apprecia- 
tive public from whom he received all those favors. 
When the gendarme advanced with stealthy steps to 
seize his enemy by the collar, he disappeared with 
shrill cries: 

“Take care! He is coming! He has a large 
stick ! ” 

When it was a question of clandestinely removing 
his furniture or of doing away with his wife’s mur. 
dered body, Punch had only to follow the advice of 
the pet which knew how to extricate its favorite. 
On that particular day Punch had committed one of 
his usual errors ; he had just knocked down Colom- 


103 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


bine and ingeniously remarked that he had struck 
her “ somewhat hard.” 

“ But,” he pleaded, “ what an insupportable per- 
son! You have seen her ; she will listen to nothing. 
And when women are not obedient, one is forced to 
beat them ! ” 

The majority of the public, prejudiced in his favor, 
sided with that husband so eager for his rights. 
But a large child often rose in order to make herself 
heard : 

“ No,” said she, gravely; “women should never be 
beaten ; you are a wretch, M. Punch ! ” 

“ Oh ! Mile. Marthe ! ” implored the murderer, 
“how hard you are upon me! Moreover, who 
knows ? My poor Colombine may perhaps revive. 
She has such a hard head ! ” 

Paul was attracted by the child’s face and voice. 
At the name of “ Marthe,” he examined her more 
closely ; it was Mme. de Chalonne’s daughter. 

His first impulse was ro return to his lodging, to 
pack his trunk, which was not large, and to set out 
as soon as morning dawned. His picture was almost 
finished, and daily new faces appeared in the town. 
For a man in search of solitude and of repose, Cau- 
terets was no longer a suitable place. 

It was, however, two weeks since Cherancy had 
exchanged a word with a human being worthy of 
the name. Since his departure from Paris, he had 
heard nothing of Nadia. Should he go away with- 
out talking for an hour with the Countess de Cha- 
lonne, who certainly could give him information? He 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


104 


sighed, as he recalled the time, so far away,- when 
Mme. Fresnel had been so tyrannically jealous of her 
cousin and of other women. 

“ Henceforth,” thought he, “I shall not have to 
suffer from her jealousy.” 

And he understood how one could regret, at certain 
moments, that which in times of happiness seemed 
insupportable. 

Guignol took leave of his spectators who cleared 
the enclosure by passing beneath the ropes. Young 
Marthe gravely issued from the exit ; a maid accom- 
panied her. Suddenly she perceived the artist who 
had been her friend since she had the honor of posing 
before him several years ago. She looked at, rec- 
ognized him in spite of his tourist’s dress, and rushed 
towards him. “ You are here ? How delightful !” 
she exclaimed. “ How pleased mamma will be.” 

Already she had seized Cherancy’s hand and was 
dragging him in the opposite direction from the 
town. They passed the Casino, then they turned to 
the right into a deserted allee. There, on a bench, 
shaded by a large tree, sat a lady reading. On 
account of the keenness of the air, her head and 
shoulders were enveloped in a scarf of red wool, 
which singularly heightened her proud beauty. 

“ Mamma !” cried Marthe, laying her two tiny 
hands over the reader’s dark eyes, “ Guess whom I 
have brought you!” At the sight of Paul the 
Countess’ pale face lighted up with pleasure. She 
extended her hand to the new comer, with a gesture 
full of frankness. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


105 


“ What ! you here ? ... By what chance—' ” 

She hesitated and blushed, feeling that she could 
not complete her sentence. Had M. de Cherancy 
left Nadia in Paris ? Had she gone away ? Why had 
they parted ? Or, on the other hand, had they dared 
to appoint a meeting in the Pyrenees ? 

“ By what chance,” she resumed, to finish her con- 
versation, “ did I not see your name on the list of 
bathers ?” 

“ Because, Madame, I am not a bather, but a poor 
artist. I arrived before they came and I am now 
preparing to fly from the elegant cohort. To-morrow 
at this time, I shall be far away, and without Mile. 
Marthe — ” 

“ M. de Cherancy was at Guignol,” explained the 
child, with the same air of importance with which 
she would have said: “ We met at the exit des 
Italiens.” 

“ Indeed, I was at Guignol where the represen- 
tation was fine. I can assure you that your daughter 
does not follow in the footsteps of Mme. Seanarelle.” 

He detailed the incident and the pleasure he had 
derived from it. 

“ My God ! ” cried Claire. “ How fortunate you 
are to be so young and to be able to find amusement 
in such trifles !” 

“Yet,” he replied, “I never felt less youthful and 
less inclined for amusement.” 

His face, becoming suddenly very gloomy, con- 
firmed that statement. Observing that the Countess 
was looking at him, in astonishment, he shook off 


106 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 

his sadness and at length asked the question upper- 
most in his mind. 

“ Do you know any news from Paris, Madame ? ” 
he asked as unconcernedly as possible. “ It is two 
weeks since I have read a newspaper or a letter.” 

' “ I do not know any more,” replied Claire. “I 
have read many papers and letters, but among the 
letters there was Hone dated from Paris.” 

To them both, the same name occurred, but they 
would not have mentioned it for all the gold in the 
world. “ Have they quarreled ?” wondered the 
Countess. “ It looks very much that way. Poor 
Nadia ! She dare not tell me.” “ God knows what 
has become of her ! ” thought Paul, greatly troubled. 
“ She no longer writes to her best friend.” 

The dinner hour drawing near, Mme. deChalonne 
rose, and all three returned to the town by way of 
the esplanade des Oeufs. 

“I, like you,” said the Countess, “fly from 
people, and had it not been for that child, you 
would not have found me at Cauterets. But the 
poor child coughs ; she must spend a season here. 
Twenty -live days of solitude in the midst of the 
whirl 1 What a bore ! ” 

“ Is there then no one who can be admitted to 
your secluded home ? ” 

“No one, excepting Lucien Sireuil, our mutual 
friend, I think.” 

“Certainly. So Sireuil is here? Where is he 
stopping ? ” 

“ At Hotel de Navarre.” 


THE CHARM BROKEX. 


107 


“ What would you say were I to go in search of 
him after dinner, and if I were to ask him to conduct 
me to your house ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, mamma” exclaimed Marthe, leaping for 
joy, as the Countess hesitated. 

“ Do not say no,” insisted Paul. u To-morrow I 
shall be far away. You need not fear establishing 
a dangerous precedent.” 

“ Come, then,” replied Claire. 

And Cherancy left her. 

At half past eight, the two men rang at the door 
of the small cottage in which Mme. de Chalonne 
lived alone with her daughter and two servants. 
They had conversed on the way, and Paul felt con- 
vinced that the lawyer, who had left Paris some- 
time before him, knew nothing in particular of 
Mme. Fresnel. 

The Countess, very handsome in her elegant gown 
of white wool, received the two Parisians as intimate 
friends. At first Marthe’s presence gave the con- 
versation a turn suitable to a child of that age. 
Claire was not one of those mothers who look upon 
a child as a piece of furniture which is in the way 
and to be relegated to a corner with a picture book. 

She took an interest in her and was pleased to 
have others notice her, not to pet but to instruct 
her. When the child had retired, they talked more 
freely, Sireuil leading the conversation while the 
others listened to him quietly. Soon his animation 
subsided. 


108 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ I’ll wager,” said he, after a silence, “that we are 
all three thinking of the same person, a person at 
whose house we met the last time we were together : 
your cousin, dear Madame.” 

“ Indeed !” replied the Countess ; “ I was thinking 
of Nadia. Why is she not here? To-morrow I 
must write to her, for I do not know what has 
become of her. She will die of ennui in Paris.” 

“ In order to amuse her,” said Sireuil, “ tell her of 
the infidelity of one of her admirers : the handsome 
Roqueserviere.” At those words, Mme. de Chalonne 
glanced instinctively at Paul and perceived that he 
was exceedingly pale. 

As no one spoke, Sireuil continued : 

“ Of course, I was joking ; I would not have made 
that remark did we not all three know what kind of 
a woman Mme. Fresnel is. But listen to my story 
and tell me if it is not droll. You know one of the 
two concerned : Roqueserviere.” 

“ And the other ?” asked the Countess. 

“ The other is a heroine ; I will not mention her 
name, if you please. I am considerate towards the 
ladies, especially towards those who will in all prob- 
ability become my clients some day. You must 
know that on leaving Paris I went first with a 
friend to Saint Jean-de-Luz. The spot is charming, 
but very small, and apartments are hard to obtain. 
The hotels were so full that the best we could get 
were in the attic. We took them, for we had to 
sleep somewhere ; the next morning we proposed to 
leave. The proprietor besought us to remain, prom- 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


109 


ising us two excellent rooms for the Blowing day ; 
to be brief, we remained, and while awaiting break- 
fast we walked upon the beach ; there we saw the 
heroine whose name my friend whispered to me. 
A pretty woman, smart, smiling, stylish and of high 
rank.” 

“ Do I know her ? ” asked the Countess. 

“ By name, assuredly, if you subscribe for the 
e Sport.’ They introduced me, we conversed. The 
lady told us that her husband was unable to leave 
Paris when she left. First she had thought of 
Biarritz ; but she did not wish to appear at so gay a 
place alone, while at Saint Jean-de-Luz. Finally a 
telegram announced the departure of Monsieur that 
evening. The next morning Madame rejoined him 
at Bayonne. At the same instant, who fell into my 
arms, radiant and blooming!? ” 

u Boqueserviere ? ” 

“ You are right, Madame. That actor pretended 
not to know the traveler whom I was forced to 
name to him. How they ridiculed me afterwards ! 
Boqueserviere informed me that he was going to 
leave the next day for Paris.” 

“ What day was it ? ” asked Paul, who had not 
uttered a word since the commencement of the 
story. 

“ What day ? Wait — it was — it was three weeks 
ago — But I have not finished. The day passed, 
the evening too, and those two personages remained 
invisible. The following morning towards, noon, 
madame left in a carriage directly for Bayonne. An 


lio 


TfiE CHARM BROKE#. 


hour afterwards, the Marquis repaired to the station 
modestly in an omnibus. . The door was scarcely 
closed, when our host said to us : “ You shall now be 
well lodged.” 

“We hastened to look at our rooms; excellent, 
indeed, and communicating. That of the Vis- 
countess — ” 

“ Ah ! ah ! We already know her name; ” cried 
Claire. 

“ Bah ! there is more than one Martin at the fair, 
and you know nothing at all. The Viscountess’ 
room, I say, contained all the perfumes of Araby. 
I refused to occupy it, for fear of sick headache. 
And, oh ! wonder of wonders, in Boqueserviere’s 
the same perfume as in that of the Viscountess. As 
soon as my friend and I entered the room we burst 
out laughing.” 

“Miserable men! as if the odor could not pass 
under the door ! ” 

“ I fancy, Madame, that it needed not to take so 
much pains, and that it had only to pass through the 
door with other things probably. The stupids had 
forgotten to draw the bolts in place on each side, 
and now, you can imagine how it looked ! 

“ If I did not know your cousin, I should think 
that rascal was deceiving her, and that her disap- 
pointment would be very great.” 

Paul could not have told how he returned home 
that evening, nor in what manner he took leave of 
Mme. de Chalonne. 

Chagrin, disgust, anger, struggled in his mind. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Ill 


The woman he loved, whom he believed to be 
endowed with more than ordinary good sense, had 
allowed herself to become a victim to the insulting 
stratagem of a roue ! It was only to make a dupe 
of her that Koqueserviere had fascinated her. 

“ Ah, woman!” he railed, “ ungrateful, frivolous, 
frail ! Angels of our happiness whom a passing 
breath changes to the demons of our lives ! Nadia ! 
Nadia ! are you happier now ? ” 

In his bitter rancor, he seated himself at his table 
to write to the unfaithful woman, and to overwhelm 
her with her shame, by informing her of what a ruse 
she had been the victim. But a more noble senti- 
ment gave place to that inclination. 

“ No ! ”• he cried, throwing aside his pen. “ She 
shall never more hear my voice nor see my writing. 
When another punishes her, her day of chastisement 
will come. I have loved her; I have no right to 
treat her harshly.” 


XII. 

“ Cauterets, July 18, 188-. 

“ My Dear Nadia : 

“You are the cause of your poor Claire passing the 
night without closing her eyes; but that would he nothing if I 
were sure that you slept better than I did. Since yesterday I 
have wondered if I could, if I should, address this letter to you. 

. . . May I be guided by the tender, sisterly affection I 

have always borne you 1 

“ There is being accomplished in your life, I am certain, some- 
thing dangerous, something fatal. I am going to release you 
to-day from a promise which I imposed upon you and which you 


in 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


gave me. When the house is on fire one does not mind breaking 
in the doors to save loved ones. Now, I am going to speak to 
you of him. 

“I met him here yesterday, by chance. I found him sad, 
changed, emaciated, longing to question me, but not daring to, 
because he thinks I know nothing. All that I could gather was 
that since his departure from Paris he has heard nothing of you. 
What is there between you ? A rupture ? My dear, I shall be 
frank and confess to you that I shall bless that rupture if hence- 
forth you can live by avoiding the slightest shadow of a reproach. 

“ God is my witness that I speak thus without the slightest 
intention of judging you or of establishing between us a com- 
parison. Poor friend ! I have a daughter to protect me ! 

‘ ‘ But if that rupture is, on your part, a change and not an end, 
you may feel assured that you are grieving, vexing, estranging 
me. 

“One is too many ! Two, are as bad as ten ! 

“Pardon me ! I write as if my hair were gray ! Ah ! God ! 
since to-day I would be satisfied were my hair to turn white, if 
at that price I could see all those whom I love happy. Prove to 
me that I did well in writing to you by replying at once, now 
that I have spoken frankly to you. Until your letter arrives, I 
shall be very wretched. 

Your faithful 

Clairon. 

“ Port Blanc ( Cotes-du-Nord ), July 21, Midnight. 

“ Ah ! yes, you did well. It now seems to me that I am saved. 
It was time ! 

“You guessed it ; something fatal is taking place. For fifteen 
days I have struggled along against a powerful adversary. Be- 
sides that, I have struggled against words I uttered to him. . . 
My God ! what shall I do to have you comprehend me ? 

“How would you interpret. ‘I love you* uttered to a man 
when it is not true ? Well, I have committed that rash act. 
Those words I addressed to a being whose strange power pos- 
sessed me, and do you wish to know with what feelings he 
inspires me ? If I were to hear to-morrow that a malefactor had 
strangled him at night while he slept, I would fall upon my 
knees to thank God. That is how I love him. 

“ I do not love and I never shall love but one man in the world. 
You have known him a long time, or rather you have not known 


113 


THE CHARM BROKER. 

him, for I did not know him myself before my madness. I do 
know whence he obtained his heart, his feelings. Paul is an 
angel, a God ! I hope to die for him some day. Ah I if you 
should be merciful and kind enough to tell liim^that. . . Par- 

don me, I know that it is impossible. 

“ You do not know the other one, at all, though you have seen 
him at my house. The Marquis de R. is neither an angel nor a 
God, I assure you I Why does he pursue me? I do not know. 
He pretends to love me. I think that he loves me, indeed, in 
his fashion. I even thought, at one time, that I had converted 
him! We are all the same! When I -was obliged, on good 
proofs, to correct my error, I repulsed him. He disappeared 
half-furious, half -desperate, for two weeks. If I had been mar- 
ried, I should have cast myself into my husband’s arms, asking 
him to protect me. In certain cases, alas! the being the most 
cherished can not fill a husband’s place.” 

“ On the second of July, my tormentor re-appeared suddenly, 
not being able to remain far from me very long, he said. I did not 
expect him. His entrance surprised me. Ah I what an entrance ! 
Imagine a gust of wind bursting open a window, rushing into 
the room, scattering objects, disarranging draperies, extinguish- 
ing lamps. It is confusing. That was what happened to me. I 
lost my self-possession, and I uttered the fatal words, madly 
hoping that he would leave me. 

“But do not fancy that I gave him anything more. Not a 
hair of my head. Ah, my God 1 if I had yielded, there would 
no longer be the question of a struggle. - 
“Two hours afterwards, Paul heard my confession. Did he 
believe me ? Did he understand me ? He said he did. ‘ Let 
us fly together.’ said he to me, ‘ and let us forget.’ Alas ! why 
could we not fly at once ? But, before leaving, he had to take a 
short trip into the country on important business. 

“ He left me for two days, telling me to be ready when he 
returned. Neither of us thought that I should enter the carriage 
with another. 

“ The following day, when R. returned, I allowed him to 
speak first. My poor Claire, what a lesson for women ! That 
pure, ethereal love, of which he had spoken to me a hundred 
times, suddenly changed its form. In my heart, I like the pure 
love the best. I had the strength to tell him that my Words of 
the preceding day were an hallucination, that I did not love him, 


114 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


that he must give me up, that only one thing remained to be 
done ; to go away, never to return. 

“ I feared a scene of despair, for I can not bear the sight of 
suffering. He was not despondent, but angry. . . Oh, my 

God ! Has one not the right to pause half-way on an evil course ? 
Was it for that he called me an unworthy, perverse, despicable 
creature ? 

“But that was not all! Had you heard his menaces, not 
against me, but against the man I love. For he guessed that I 
loved someone. Could I otheiwise reject one whom everyone 
knew to be irresistible ? 

“ Take care,” said he to me, “ you will be watched day and 
night, and if I discover another lover, I shall kill him.” I made 
no reply, but I turned pale, and that was not calculated to allay 
suspicion. Paul, endangered on my account, by me ! 

“ With difficulty did I plan my flight, knowing that all would 
be lost if I remained in Paris between those two men. I knew of 
Port Blanc, a secluded village on the coast of Brittany, for I had 
spent a week or two there. I chose that refuge ; but, on writing 
to Paul, to tell him of my sudden departure, I feigned not to 
know to what place I intended going, fearing that, in spite of my 
orders to the contrary, he would join me too soon. Two hours 
later on, I was rolling away. 

“ In the morning I reached a small station, where I had to 
exchange my railroad carriage for a miserable diligence. I was 
on the point of entering it, when Juliette uttered a cry. I turned, 
the Marquis was at the door, his hat in his hand, bowing to me 
as to a friend met casually on a journey. 

When we were alone in the coach: “ I thought,” said he, 
“ that I warned you that no one could scorn de Roqueservi&re ? 
So you are bound for the sea shore ? I am, too. I guessed 
yesterday by your eyes that you anticipated taking a trip. Par- 
don me for having followed you. I would go to the end of the 
earth after you.” “ What can I add ? He is here, living in a 
sort of cottage a few hundred feet from the house which he 
rented for me ; for on setting foot in Port Blanc, I was incapable 
of thinking rationally of anything. 

“ He comes to see me daily. I threatened to bar my door 
against him ; he vowed he would force it open, it was his right 
since I loved him. I swore to him that I loathed him, but he 
shrugged his shoulders. That man has any amount of confidence 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


115 


in himself. * Of what use is it to struggle against your heart ?’ 
he asked with a grandiose air. I assure you, said I to him, it 
will make me ill. ‘ So much the better/ he replied, * I will 
have the pleasure of caring for you/ 

“ I dare not enter into open war with him, nor yet attempt to 
fly, and still, each time that he knocks at my door, my heart 
bounds into my throat. Now he is as distant as a gaoler; now he 
grows angry and threatens me; sometimes he weeps. At other 
times he is cynical, and threatens that he will leave me after he 
has conquered me. The next day, he kisses the hem of my gar- 
ment, retracts his oath of the preceding day, says that I make 
him beside himself, that I am avenging all the women who have 
suffered by his hand. Then he curses the day on which he met 
me and regrets loving for the first time, on the eve of growing old. 

“ But that torture is nothing, by the side of that which Paul’s 
silence has caused me. Not once has he written to me. His let- 
ters would reach me as your’s did. Juliettp, my invaluable and 
devoted maid, has found the means of obtaining them. As for 
me, I dare not write to Paul. He would appear on the morrow 
and you can imagine the scene. . . Or else who knows? Who 

can tell me if he still loves me, if he is not disgusted with me, 
vexed with me for my long silence? 

“ Every day I hope that my tormentor will grow weary, will 
depart, and that I can rejoin the man I love. Ohl Claire, I dare 
not confide my humiliation to you. But now that you know it, 
you will rescue me, will you not? I implore you, I embrace you, 
I bless you. Nadia/* 

Having finished the perusal of her cousin’s confes- 
sion, Claire de Chalonne, seized with a strange 
suspicion, meditated attentively and compared several 
dates. Then she took her hat and went out, with- 
out losing a moment. Five o’clock struck. She 
turned toward the Casino, knowing that at that 
time of the day Lucien Sireuil would be playing 
ecarte . Summoned by a few lines written in pencil, 
the advocate came down-stairs at once and sought 
the Countess who was awaiting him impatiently. 


V 


116 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


“ Do you want me ? ” said he. 

“ Yes, if you are my friend.” 

“ Your sincere friend, dear Madame, devoted, true, 
discreet.” 

“ Ah, discreet. That is precisely what I do not 
want you to be. Do you know what I came to ask 
you? The name of the person with whom the 
Marquis de Boqueservtere was at Saint Jean-de-Luz.” 

“ The deuce ! What a request ! See here, if it 
were you, would you be satisfied for me to speak ? 
And is that what you sent for me for, just when I 
was about to call ninety ? ” 

“ Tell me the name, and return to your game ! ” 

“ You would not know it ! ” 

“ Indeed, I think of it a great deal. For pity’s 
sake, tell me that name, I beseech of you. I must 
know it at once.” 

“ Impossible, Madame. Old Sireuil does not do 
such things. I plead scandalous cases, but I do not 
help to bring them to light. And then, before the 
suit there would be a duel. Ah ! no, none of that, 
Lisette ! Au re voir, I must leave you ! We must 
fly temptation, above all when the temptress re- 
sembles you.” 

“ Listen, M. Sireuil. If you persist in maintain- 
ing silence, I swear to you that to-morrow, be- 
fore noon, I shall be at Saint- Jean-de-Luz.” 

Lucien Sireuil reflected a moment, then he said 
to Mine, de Chalonne : 

“Ah, ah! I think I understand, and I can now 
see certain particulars which perplexed me last 


THE CHARM BROKENr 


117 


night. You wish to enlighten your cousin as to the 
Marquis’ sincerity.” 

“ Yes, and you know very well that your disclos- 
ure will remain a secret between us three. Once 
already you defended Nadia. To-day she must be 
saved. Now you will no longer refuse to speak!” 

“ Ah ! Accursed Roqueserviere ! But, Madame, be 
prudent. I deliver into your keeping the honor, per- 
haps the life, of Yiscountess de Saint-Rieul.” 

Rest assured,” replied Claire, “ her secret will 
run no risk in my hands. If, at any time, misfor- 
tune should come to that woman, I promise you it 
would not be owing to your revelation.” 

With those words they separated. The Countess 
was returning home to write, but on the way she 
bethought herself of the fact that her letter would 
take thirty-six hours to reach there. Then, she re- 
paired to the telegraph office, and, after having 
destroyed several rough copies, some compromising 
by their clearness, others unintelligible, she sent 
this despatch to Port Blanc : 

“You are being deceived. The journey last month was made 
on behalf of Mme. de Saint-Rieul. You can take in the situation. 
The meeting took place at Saint-Jean-de-Luz. We can produce 
witnesses. Claire.” 

Port Blanc, July 15. 

‘ ‘ All is ended. Thanks to you, I am free. . . . 

“I was just reading your telegram, the sense of which I gath- 
ered without any trouble, when he came in, more tyrannical, 
more moody than ever. 

“I received him by telling him, very coldly, of' what I Jiad 
just learned, without, of course, informing him of the source of 
my information, or of the name of the lady. My dear, that man, 
so handsome — for he is, to be sure-became suddenly ugly, very 


118 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


ugly. He no longer desired to gaze into my eyes as a fascinator. 
At first he denied, not his trip to Saint- Jean-de-Luz, but the 
meeting. He pretended that he spent fifteen days in that hole, 
unhappy, seeing no one. Then, I gave him the name. He grew 
angry, and accused poor Sireuil of having played the spy. Go ! 
said I to him. You should have gone long ago. 

“ A moment later, he had crossed my threshold ! 

“ My God, how easy that was ! To think that at times I lost 
all hope of ever freeing myself from that tyrant of my life. I 
thought I was riveted to him by one of those terrible compacts 
which, formerly, bound a soul to the devil. Ah ! I can say it 
now ! That man held me by fear, pure and simple. 

“ Freed! That was my first thought this morning on awaken- 
ing, for I slept. It seems to me I could sleep a week without 
awakening. Or perhaps I am going to be ill? But what does 
it matter now? I am no longer afraid that that demon will nurse 
me as he had threatened to do. Dear friends, you have saved 
me. Without you perhaps I should have ended by being van- 
quished, not by love, but by exhaustion. You know that they 
conquer lions by keeping them from sleeping, and your poor 
Nadia is not a lion, especially at this moment! 

“ To tell you the truth, I no longer know what I am. The 
only impression within me is that of a void. My thoughts re- 
echo in my brain with a sonorousness which makes me uncom- 
fortable. You know what an odd effect the voice produces when 
you speak in an unfurnished room. To-day I am thinking 
between four bare walls. There is nothing there; all is devas- 
tated, all is gone; all can be restored. Is the matter worth the 
trouble? 

We shall see when my mind and body are rested. At this 
hour all effort is impossible; every human being frightens me, 
and men, without exception, terrify me. You think, perhaps, 
that I should like to see Paul again? No, not at this moment. 
I should have to make explanations, answer questions, exhibit 
joy, smile. ” 

“I do not feel strong enough. Try to make him understand 
the miserable condition in which I am. But, above all, don’t let 

*V- 

him come, not yet. I will remain here until something actuates 
me to move. Adieu! I am dying of fatigue; but I am not un- 
happy, for I have peace. Nadia. ” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


119 


“Port Blanc, Aug. 8. 

“ I have received your letter of July 30. Iam better, for- 
tunately, for now I can think, but I assure you, that at certain 
moments of my life my greatest happiness has been not to think. 

“You say that it is not possible for you to speak to Paul, as I 
asked you to. You are right. How could 1 have proposed such 
a thing ? Yes, I was absurd. You are too young ; you are too 
much like those beautiful saints, glorious by their virtue, chastely 
severe, who have only known one love, that of heaven. 

“ ‘Write yourself / you tell me. Poor friend ! What should I 
write to that man who has suffered and who has doubted so many 
times ? If he should return ? Do I expect him ? Am I free ? 

• Glorious liberty ! Without you, without the advice you gave me 
when would I have acquired it ? 

“ And if he does not wish to return to me, if he does not wish 
to believe that nothing separates me from him ? Or if he should 
return to find out that to forget is impossible, that love is dead ? 

“ If only he would speak to you of me ! If he only seemed to 
miss me ! But you write me that my name never passes his lips, 
and that he talks of going away ... of going farther away 
from me. Let him go, then ! Of what avail is it to struggle 
against the fatal chance which pursues me ? I feel that my life 
has been ruined by the haughty caprice of a wretched man. 

“I shall not forget your birthday, the 13th of August. On that 
day kiss dear Marthe once more for my sake, and think of the 
kisses which you showered upon me when I was, like her, a 
child, happy, innocent and guarded by the best of mothers. 

Nadia/’ 


XIII. 

Two weeks had flown since Paul had announced 
his intended departure ; he had not gone, and he no 
longer talked of going. 

It was not that he was happy at Cauterets, but 
he knew that he would be more unhappy elsewhere. 


120 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


He had, in that crisis of his life, chanced upon a 
provisional peace. 

Without considering the morrow, the future, he 
enjoyed that comparative calm. Moreover, work, 
lasting the best part of the day, prevented him from 
thinking. In the evening, from force of habit, 
which seemed to him quite natural, he found him- 
self at Mme. de Chalonne’s. 

The old lawyer, Sireuil, by that time knew the 
whole story of Mme. Fresnel, Cherancy and Roque- 
serviere. Half of it had been told him, he had 
divined the rest, still more easily, since for some 
time he had suspected the truth. 

He, too, sacrificing all the other pleasures of the 
gay watering place, repaired every evening to the 
Countess’, knowing that without the presence of a 
chaperon like him Paul would not have the door 
open to him so regularly. Perhaps a feeling of 
sympathetic pity for a man in love, bearing his suf- 
fering bravely, was joined in Sireuil with that crude 
dilettantism of human life which led him, when in 
Paris, into the most widely different circles. 

As for Mme. de Chalonne, she felt as if she were 
obeying a sentiment of justice, a desire to make 
reparation for a wound inflicted by one of her kin. 
In her breast, she felt for Cherancy an admiration 
bordering on enthusiasm. She watched him suffer 
curiously, surprised that he had the strength not to 
complain, not to accuse anyone by an allusion in any 
way bitter. 

For the first time in her life she could measure 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


121 


the puissance of love by its terrible effects. Love, 
like war, alas ! — can not be understood through the 
recitals of the historian, nor the strophes of poets. 
The ruins, the tears, the anguish caused must be 
viewed. On Paul’s brow and in Nadia’s letters, 
Claire could easily perceive them. 

“ Great God ! ” thought she, “ those two beings 
are living, nothing hinders them from belonging 
one to the other, and yet their hearts are torn by 
tortures which the death of the best of men did not 
cause me ! ” 

More than once she had been on the point of 
yielding to pity and of undertaking to bring 
together those two miserable existences. 

But, setting aside the scruples of her severe con- 
science and the modesty of her sentiments, she 
thought she was acting in the interests of both par- 
ties by not precipitating matters. She wished Paul 
to meet again a happy woman, charmed to see him, 
staunch in her loyalty, and not a weak, trembling, 
sickly woman. Meanwhile those evenings spent at 
Mme. de Chalonne’s gave to Paul one of those bene- 
fits which he had lost, and the loss of which he 
felt the most — intimacy. He bore more bravely, in 
expectation of that soothing hour, the trials of the 
day, the dreams of his sleepless nights. He was 
astonished himself at the balm cast by the soft hand 
of a woman over the wound which another woman 
had inflicted, and each day a little less happy, a 
little more grateful, he came to seek the healing 
balm. What would become of him were he to find 


122 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


the door closed ? He tried not to think of it. The 
word 4 departure,’ was never uttered. 

One evening at the Countess’, he noticed the 
extraordinary excitement of little Marthe who had 
become more and more attached to him. The child 
laughed as she looked at him, ran from her mother 
to Lucien Sireuil, and spoke to him in a low voice. 
When she followed her nurse to bed, she kissed Paul 
her eyes beaming with joy. 

“ Until to-morrow ! ” said she to him in a tone full 
of promise. 

The following day, somewhat before noon, the 
painter was working as usual, that is to sa furiously. 
For some time he had abandoned the Lake de Gaube, 
infested with pseudo tourists, and had taken refuge, 
with his umbrella and his canvas, about half an 
hour’s walk from the Pont d’ Espague, the limit of 
the excursions of the ‘ vulgar herd.’ 

As he was interested in his study, the dull sound 
of horses’ hoofs on the velvety grass caused him to 
raise his head. He frowned, not at all charmed at 
the approach of the cavalcade which came to inter- 
rupt his solitude. First appeared, his whip slung 
over his shoulder, one of those opera-comic guides, 
peculiar to the Pyrenees, incapable of walking a 
league and of finding their way in the mountains, 
outside of the beaten track followed daily by their 
hired beasts. Then, came a cavalier, less startling by 
his boldness than by his inexperience ; then, a young 
lady with a queenly carriage, and an Amazon of ten, 
galloping ahead. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


123 


“Well,” she exclaimed, “ I hope that you are sur- 
prised? You did not expect us. But that is not all; 
we invite you to lunch. We have brought a lot of 
goodies. You will see ! ” The Countess de Cha- 
lonne and Sireuil came up in their turn. The former, 
with Paul’s assistance, leaped lightly to the ground. 
The latter was aided by the guide’s strong arm. 

Animated by her horse’s pace and by the bracing 
air, Claire was wonderfully pretty and seemed 
remarkably youthful. She, too, appeared happy in 
the happiness of her daughter, whose health improved 
from day to day. 

While Sireuil, aided by Marthe, busied himself in 
choosing a spot in which to dispose the repast, Cke- 
rancy showed the Countess his painting which was 
well-nigh completed. Claire was one of those rare 
women, capable of conversing on the subject of Art, 
without ever in her life having touched a pencil. 
She had seen many excellent pictures, had listened 
to many celebrated artists and weighed their judg- 
ment, instead of wishing to surprise them by hers, as 
is so common with pretty women, prompt to believe 
that they know and can do everything. In a few 
phrases, in which discreet praise was couched, she 
afforded Paul a pleasure which he had not ex- 
perienced for a long time, and which Nadia had 
never afforded him : That of hearing art handled 
competently. 

You have given,” said he, his face lighting up 
with pleasure “ to these grandiose beauties the only 
thing lacking — a voice.” 


124 


THE CHARM BR0KEH. 


He might have added that she had given him an 
appetite, for he did honor to the cold viands. 

“ Are we not having a fine time ? ” cried Marthe, 
in raptures. ‘‘This was my idea. But this is not 
all. At dessert there will be another surprise.” 

As she spoke, she glanced slyly at a mysterious 
package, with regard to which the Countess feigned 
the most perfect indifference. The time arrived, the 
package opened, disclosed a bottle of Moet and a 
bunch of roses which the child offered to her mother 
as she clasped her arms around her neck. 

“ Oh ! what pretty flowers ! ” said the Countess. 
“But why ? Is it my birthday? Yes, indeed; Saint- 
Claire’s-day falls on to-morrow. And you remem- 
bered it, darling ? ” 

Lucien Sireuil presented her with a bunch of vio- 
lets, and, glass in hand, proposed a toast as neatly 
turned as if he had an audience of fifty persons. 

Paul, somewhat out of his element in the midst 
of that joy, looked on, awaiting his turn to speak. 
When the glasses were emptied, he rose, gathered a 
wild rhododendron from a bush near by, and 
approaching Claire, said : 

“ It is the offering of a poor man, but of a poor 
man sincerely, eternally grateful to his benefactress.” 

He was deeply moved and everyone could see the 
tears sparkling in his eyes. Though Mme. de Cha- 
lonne extended her hand without replying, she was 
none the less agitated. 

Little Marthe sprang up and without consideration 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


125 


for Sireuil’s embonpoint , dragged him to a slope 
near by. 

“When mamma is sad,” she whispered to her 
companion, “ she likes to be left alone. M. de Che- 
rancy will not annoy her, for he is sad, too.” 

Left alone, beneath the shade of the old pme tree 
on the green turf, those two sorrowful people 
watched the water flow, water so transparent that it 
might have been taken for liquid air. Paul could 
have remained there for hours. As for the Countess, 
it could easily be seen that she had something to say, 
something difficult, and that she was seeking an ex- 
ordium. Forcing her voice to its very softest accent, 
Claire, after a silence, spoke thus : 

“Just now you said that I was charitable, and I 
accept the word. You understand why, notwith- 
standing my tastes and my duty, I opened my door 
to you as I have done. Do not let us resume this sub- 
ject to-day, or ever. Now my task is accomplished, 
and I am rejoiced to think that you have no longer 
need of me, at the moment when my role of Sister 
of Charity was about to become very difficult. On 
our way hither, my old friend Sireuil, informed me 
that he is going away to-morrow.” 

Paul started, sighed, bowed his head. 

“ And you can not receive me when he is gone ? ” 
he asked. “ That is what you have to tell me. It 
is true. I have never heard issue from your lips one 
word which was not true, just and good. Well, I 
shall go away, then, too. Three weeks of my misery 
have been whiled away at any rate.” 


126 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ That feeling will soon give place to one of hap- 
piness.” 

“ That is the secret of the future, and of my des- 
tiny. One thing is certain, but it was foreseen ; I 
must go away. My plans are already made. If 
you will permit, we will return to the village to- 
gether. There are still two hours to spend with 
you. Who knows when I shall have that pleasure 
again ? ” 

“ And your painting apparatus ? ” said Mme. de 
Chalonne, without replying. 

“ I shall leave everything at the inn of the Pont 
d’ Espagne where your horses are, for I shall come 
up again this evening, when my affairs are arranged 
in town. To-morrow, at daybreak, I shall be upon 
the watch on the road, and the first Spanish moun- 
taineers returning home, will serve as guides for me, 
as porters for my luggage.” 

“What!” exclaimed Claire, “You are going to 
Spain!” 

“Yes, to the baths of Panticosa. It seems that it 
is an excellent site. Why do you look at me with 
so singular an air ? ” 

“Because you should not go to Panticosa, but to 
Paris. You will find there a person whom I love as 
a sister, who merits all the devotion of which your 
heart is capable, and who can not be happy without 
3^ou.” 

A shadow flitted over Paul’s features. He slowly 
raised his head, and, his eyes fixed upon Mme. de 
Chalonne, he asked : 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


127 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ One thing only ; that you must return to Paris. 
M. de Cherancy, you know me. To save my own 
life, I would not advise you to do that which the 
most delicate honor — Ah ! God ! can you not under- 
stand me ? There are things which I can not tell, 
which I do not even know.” 

“That is true,” said Paul. 

Then after a pause: 

“I only understand you in part, but I believe you 
to be loyalty itself; only I expected so little. . . 

I thought that I was forgotten; I tried to forget — 
to forget, too. . . What a shock your words 

caused me! Itjs necessary for me to collect myself, 
to question myself. No, indeed, I could not return 
like this, so soon. . . to the place you speak of.” 

Claire, at that moment, thought that Cherancy 
spoke very sensibly. Undoubtedly she would have 
rejoiced for Nadia’s sake to see him rush away, for- 
getting everything, like the exile to whom the doors 
of his country are again opened. But, since he saw 
the matter in a different light, she could not help 
approving of his views. She was pleased to see 
that the sick man cared for by her was not too 
easily cured of his malady. 

She took pleasure, too, a peculiar pleasure, in 
examining absently the flower which Cherancy had 
offered her with such affecting words. 

The day was glorious. The sun shone brightly, 
and through the dark branches of the pines came a 
thousand odors, while the fresh breeze from the 


128 THE CHARM BROKEH. 

summits of the heights fanned the brow caressingly. 
In the distance could be heard the symphonies of 
the cascades. But at the feet of that man and that 
woman, suffering, reasoning, struggling, bidding one 
another farewell for a long time, perhaps forever, 
could be heard a sound like the laughter of an in- 
credulous old man. It was the streamlet which 
flowed through the prairie over the pebbles, barely 
covered by the limpid water. 

Undoubtedly the young man heard that mocking 
laugh. She started, her handsome face colored 
more warmly, her fingers unclasped. The little 
flower, seized by the wind, was blown towards the 
foaming falls, where the large trees themselves were 
broken. And still the streamlet gurgled. 

Paul, seeing the small red flower disappear, said 
in a whisper, as if talking to himself : 

“ It will reach Cauterets quicker than we shall ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Mme. de Chalonne gravely. “ It 
will follow the road it should follow, lucky or un- 
lucky, what does it matter ? M. de Cherancy, do as 
that flower does ! Follow your road, listen to your 
duty. Go to Paris.” 

She spoke in a nervous voice, with a sort of irrita- 
tion, for if that departure seemed to her a natural 
thing, just, necessary, she still felt a secret displeas- 
ure at being obliged to sign, herself, Cherancy’s pass- 
port. 

“ Not at once, ” he replied again. “ At this 
moment, I could not.” 

“Why,” insisted the Countess? “Nothing 


THE CHARM BROKEK. 


129 


hinders yon from returning to Paris immediately. 
I say nothing. Do yon hear me ? ” 

“ Nothing ! ” he exclaimed. “ Nothing apart from 
me, that is possible. But within me ! Do you know 
what wounds treason, ingratitude, injustice, even 
unconscious, but caused by weakness, make in the 
heart ? ” 

“ If they are wept for, expiated, made amends 
for \ ” Claire de Chalonne could say no more. 
Marthe ran towards them, carrying in her red 
fingers a ball of half-melted snow. 

“ How comical this is ! ” cried she from afar, to 
Cherancy. “ Snow in the month of August, and so 
cold ! Only see ! ” Paul, without a word, took the 
piece of ice and passed it slowly over his brow and 
his burning temples. 

An hour later the cavalcade, together with 
a pedestrian, passed the Pont d’ Espagne, and de- 
scended towards the town. Paul, when the road 
permitted, walked beside the Countess’ horse. He had 
announced his departure, and his sadness had affected 
every one. The descent was made almost in silence. 

Arrived at La Railliere, Paul said : 

<c Adieu, Madame. Our roads branch off here. 
God knows when they will meet again ! To-morrow, 
when you awake, think of the traveler who is 
crossing the mountain.” 

“ So you have decided. You are going up there ? ” 

As he made a gesture in the affirmative : 

“ Here,” said she, with a sudden resolution, draw- 
ing from her pocket the last letter from her cousin ; 


130 


tHE CHARM BROKEH. 


“ take this, and read it. Perhaps you will change 
your mind.” 

When Paul was alone, he glanced, as he walked, 
at the lines in a handwriting which he had not 
seen for so long a time. 

His emotion was great ; in his heart struggled con- 
flicting resolutions. But, when he reached his lodg- 
ing, when he again saw that room in which he had 
spent so many sleepless nights, the man rose above 
that which poor Nadia called the angel. He sank 
into an easy -chair, and burying his face in his hands, 
he moaned : 

“ I can not, yet. God is my witness that I should 
like to. But I can not ! ” . . . 

In the evening, overcome by mental and physical 
fatigue, he reappeared at his inn. After an inter- 
minable night, dawn permitted him to leave his bed. 
An hour later, the porters of Panticosa divided his 
light luggage, and he started out with them. Before 
noon, his feet trod upon the snow in the pass of 
Marcadau, eight thousand feet above the level, and 
he began to descend the desolate slopes on the 
Spanish side. 

At almost the same time, Lucien Sireuil left Cau- 
terets. In the evening at ten o’clock, as Claire de 
Chalonne sat alone, a man in rags, the true type of 
a bandit, rapped, out of breath, at her door. Claire, 
on hearing her maid’s cry, rushed to the door; the 
maid, a Parisian unaccustomed to visitors so poorly- 
clad, was trying vainly to understand the stranger. 
But in his explanation, made in a kind of patois, one 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


131 


word recurred constantly : Panticosa. At the same 
time, he held a letter through the bars. Seized with 
a dire presentiment of evil, Claire took the letter 
and hastened toward the lamp in order to read it, 
not before she had told the maid to admit the mes- 
senger and to see that he was well treated. 

u Madame is afraid of nothing/’ said the soubrette 
to her companion. “ Nevertheless, I have not seen 
her more moved since the evening on which I gave her 
the dispatch announcing the illness of my late mas- 
ter.”Meanwhile Claire de Chalonne read the follow- 
ing: 

“ Baths op Panticosa, Aug. 14, 188 — , 5 P. M. 

“ Mme. la Comtesse : 

“ Two men connected with our establishment have just arrived 
from France, accompanying a traveler who took them as guides 
this morning at the Pont d’ Espagne. That stranger, who, so say 
his companions, showed symptons of great exhaustion towards 
the end of his journey, fainted on entering my office, without 
having been able to utter a word. 

“ It was my duty to seek for some sign enabling me to inform 
his family of a situation which might prove to be serious. I only 
found upon him one letter, the address of which I have repro- 
duced upon mine, leaving you to decide what shall be done. Our 
unknown guest has not regained consciousness. He is attended 
with all the zeal possible by two physicians; whose diagnosis of 
the case is not yet final. The messenger whom I have sent to 
you, so as not to lose a minute, has orders to return with all pos- 
sible speed, notwithstanding the night and the difficulties of the 
journey. I am, Madame, respectfully 

Your devoted servant, 
Candau.” 

(Administrator of the Baths). 


XIY. 


“ He is lost ! ” said the Countess to herself.” Un- 
happy Nadia ! Your hand has killed him ! ” 

Then, remembering the conversation of the pre- 
ceding day on the mountain, and the circumstances 
under which Paul’s departure had taken place, she 
thought : 

“ Am I not rather to be blamed ? Could I not, 
by keeping him here several days longer, have 
reasoned with him, have calmed him, have cured 
that fever of body and of mind which smouldered 
within him, and beneath which he succumbed ? 
Had I the right to make him leave, by one word, 
the retreat he had found in his sorrow? Was his 
departure so very urgent ? Alas ! what misfortune 
will it bring about ? ” 

r She no longer admired herself, as she had the pre- 
ceding day, for her noble severity. 

At that moment she saw in her conduct the 
exaggeration of selfish and false scruples. But, 
above all, she saw the unfortunate Paul lying, dead 
perhaps, in his bed at an inn on the other side of 
those mountains which she could almost touch with 
her hand. 

Five hours only to go to him ! 

That thought did not leave her, as she crushed 
between her fingers the letter just delivered to her, 
asking what was to be done. For something must 
be done. Should she telegraph ? To whom ? To 
Nadia? It would be barbarous ; it was impossible. 

132 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


133 


To Paul’s family ? He had said in her presence 
twenty times that his family consisted only of 
distant relatives. Besides, she did not know their 
address. 

Five hours! Half a day on a mule to do an act 
of justice, of kindness. Had she not often faced 
longer journeys for pleasure? And, as she hesitated 
thus, she fancied she could hear a faint voice calling 
her. With a shudder, she glanced at the clock, 
thinking that she had been dreaming for hours. It 
was only five minutes since the Spaniard had 
knocked at her door. 

“ Well, it is duty,” said she. I must not hesitate. 
At daybreak we shall be on the way.” 

Then, already calmed, she planned the expedition 
for the following day. First of all, she sent for the 
guide who usually escorted her, and who was to be 
found without any trouble at a neighboring cafe. 

“ Horses for myself, my daughter and my maid,” 
she commanded. a We will set out at daybreak.” 

But, on learning that Panticosa was to be reached 
by crossing the mountain directly, the man raised 
his arms toward Heaven. 

“ Cross the Marcadau on horseback ! ” cried he. 
“ Madame has not considered it ! Only mules can 
cross there ; but I defy the ladies to keep their seats 
even on them, on certain parts of the road.” 

Claire, at that unexpected obstacle, felt her re- 
morse and anguish redouble. 

“ But,” she moaned ; “ there is no easier road.” 

“ By rising early, Madame can reach Pau, then 


134 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Laruns by railroad in the morning. There, a carriage 
will take you through the Eaux-Chaudes and Gabas 
to Lourdes, a spot at which terminates the coaching 
road. You will, however, find mules there which 
will take you to Salient, in Spain ; one of the best 
passes in the Pyrenees. At Salient, you will take a 
carriage again, and by dawn you will reach the baths 
of Panticosa.” 

“ Yery well,” said Claire. “I will follow that 
route.” On the stroke of eleven, the Spanish mes- 
senger, well fed and well paid, started out again 
across the precipices, as calmly as a citizen would 
cross a bridge to return home after having dined in 
town. As for Mme. de Chalonne, she had no trouble 
in rising early, for the excellent reason that she did 
not retire. She spent the time in thinking, in pre- 
paring some light luggage for her daughter and 
herself and in writing out telegrams informing Nadia 
of what had taken place. Upon reflection, she sent 
none of them. It would be wiser to wait a few 
hours longer, and to give more exact details. 

Day had dawned when she awoke Marthe and told 
her her plans for the day. 

“ Let us go quickly! ” cried the child. “ Poor M. 
de Cherancy! Yery ill, you say? And all alone! 
How sad that is ! ” 

To tell the truth, that great sadness diminished 
when Marthe found out that she would have to 
make part of the journey on horseback. Mother 
and daughter set out at five o’clock, accompanied by 
a maid. At Pierrefitte, they exchanged the dili- 


THE CHAEM BB0KEX. 


135 


gence for the carriage. At Lourdes, then at Pau, 
they took the car. At Laruns, another change to a 
carriage. At about three o’clock in the afternoon, 
in admirable weather, the travelers, mounted upon 
stout mules, crossed the walls which separated 
France from Spain. 

The worst was over. Three or four hours at the 
most, and Claire would know if her ride had been 
for naught. 

For the first time a reaction took place within her ; 
she began to think of all that was inconsiderate in 
her enterprise. She pictured herself arriving at 
Panticosa, exposed to the gaze of all those strangers 
whose glances would ask : 

“ Who is the sick man to whom you have come 
from such a distance? Your husband or your 
brother?” 

The shock caused by that reflection was so sudden 
that Claire mechanically pulled the rein of her bridle. 
The animal stopped short. 

“ Ah, my God ! Who can advise me ? ” thought 
she. No one in that stony desert, as bare, as deso- 
late as a landscape in Palestine. At a distance, on 
the very summit of the slopes, innumerable herds 
of sheep were browsing. Lower down, more easily 
to be seen, hundreds of mules, resembling large, red 
ants, were nibbling the grass or sleeping, stretched 
idly in the sun. On the approach of the riders, 
flocks of crows, with sinister cries, flewaway to 
some spot further on. A Roman of the time of 
Yirgil would have found there more than one lugu- 


136 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


brious omen. Never had Claire de Chalonne felt so 
alone, so hesitating, so troubled. She called her 
daughter, who was handing her muleteer her silver 
cup to fill at a brook near by. 

“ Marthe,” she asked, “ are you not tired ? Would 
you not like to return to Cauterets ? ” 

She awaited the child’s reply, as she would that of 
an oracle, swearing to obey it. The girl glanced at 
her mother in surprise. 

“ Oh ! mamma ! He is all alone, and ill ! On the 
contrary let us go quickly.” 

It was not the last time that the child was to have 
a decisive influence on the destiny of her mother 
and of Paul de Cherancy. 

At six o’clock in the evening Claire and her suite 
could distinguish the slate roofs of the pretty village 
of Panticosa. The road leading to the baths had 
begun eight kilometers on foot; five hundred 
meters to climb to the amphitheater of the moun- 
tains. That was what Mme. de Chalonne heard 
with affright, when the horses paused to take breath 
before thz posada at the foot of the hills. Still one 
hour before receiving the reply to that question 
which, since the day before, was buried* in her heart 
like a gimlet — “Was he dead % ” 

At the moment they entered the gorge, Claire 
felt as if she were entering a new world. On the 
pathway an enormous boulder cast its shadow; 
beyond there was no trace of sun-light. It was like 
the frontier of the realm of the unknown. Other 
rays of light, other sentiments, other laws seemed 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


137 


to guide the mortal who ventured into that erebus 
of the air. Mme. de Chalonne, at that moment, 
closed her eyes with the feeling that she was pass- 
ing beneath a new power. Suddenly the thunder of 
the mountains with its claps and its battle-roar was 
heard. But the anguish which possessed Claire had 
no connection with the storm. Not only did she 
feel that she should not be happy a moment of her 
life if she found Cherancy dead, but she felt as if 
she were bringing with her the cure for the sick 
man. She was the messenger of mercy dispatched 
to the innocent man, already on the road to punish- 
ment. Oh ! punishment for herself ! the fear of 
arriving one hour, one minute, or one second too late. 

She had promised her coachman to double the 
fare ; he lashed his whip and urged his panting 
horses on. Claire’s excitement, too, was intense. 
She cursed the wheels, which did not turn fast 
enough, the holes in the road, which constantly set 
back the horses. 

They were four thousand feet above the level ; 
the air became chilly. In vain did the maid 
arrange the robes over her mistress’ knees. Claire 
mechanically pushed them aside. She longed to 
leave the carriage and follow the mountaineers who 
passed her. A white house appeared on the sum- 
mit of the gorge. At length ! There it was ! An 
other quarter of an hour and the uncertainty would 
cease. Alas! to be replaced by some truth more 
cruel ! The landscape became indistinct ; the mist 
grew thicker. 


138 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


A peak, half-veiled, rose darkly against the sky ; 
upon its cone were scattered patches of snow, and 
Claire shuddered, fancying she saw silver tears on 
the sombre drapery of a catafalque. 

The white house drew nearer ; it was reached. It 
was only a building constructed for the road 
laborers. Beyond, still more snares ; suddenly the 
road seemed to disappear. 

“My God! ” exclaimed the Countess, aloud. “We 
shall never reach there ! ” 

The sound of her own voice awoke her as if from 
a dream. She asked herself if that was indeed 
Claire de Chalonne, who was crossing the mountains 
for fourteen hours in order to reach the death-bed of 
a sick stranger. A stranger! Was Paul de Cher- 
ancy any thing else to her ? 

Far from calming her, that thought irritated her 
against herself, so that her eyes flamed. Yes, it was 
a stranger to whom she was going. She repeated 
it to herself twice with so much energy that her lips 
moved. She interrogated herself in order to find out 
what she would think of another woman performing 
a similar act. The day before, undoubtedly, she 
would have called it madness. But she had no 
longer her opinions, her fears, her scruples of the 
preceding day. To arrive in time, that was her one 
thought! What mattered the rest to her at that 
hour? 

The road took one last turn. The horses trotted 
on under a cold rain. They crossed a white marble 
bridge ; they turned a second time, and suddenly, 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


139 


at the extremity of a small lake with inky waters, 
appeared an enclosure with buildings whose outlines 
bespoke a hospital or barracks. 

That was it. Claire heaved a sigh. The hour had 
come for knowing all. Several revolutions of the 
wheels, several cracks of the whip and the carriage 
drew up before a 'perron . 

Marthe, tired from the long journey, sprang to the 
ground. Before alighting, the Countess, addressing 
a serving-woman, who advanced, asked : 

“ M. de Cherancy ? How is he ? Where is he? ” 

Ho reply, but a smile which disclosed the maid’s 
white teeth. Large black eyes gazed at her without 
comprehending : 

“ No intiendo , SenoraP 

Other servants hastened up; men unloaded the 
light luggage, and Claire repeated her question. 
The only reply received were curious glances. A 
Frenchwoman at Panticosa! What a rare event. 
Meanwhile, the young lady exhausted from excite- 
ment and fatigue, drenched by the rain which was 
falling in torrents, could scarcely restrain her tears. 
She glanced supplicatingly at those around her ; her 
lips repeated one word, which the entire universe 
should understand : 

“ Cherancy ! Cherancy ! ” 

She gazed in despair at the interminable buildings; 
at each window. Where was he? Where Was his 
poor, sick body, if he were still alive? Where his 
corpse, if dead ? 

Thank God, some one uttered a French sentence ! 


140 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Have I the honor of addressing the Countess de 
Chalonne?” asked a short, stout man, with a heavy 
moustache and an energetic face. 

At a gesture in the affirmative, he continued : 

“Will you follow me, Madame? Your arrival 
relieves me of a terrible responsibility. The sick 
man’s condition has not changed since I wrote to 
you. I have cared for him not only as a host, but 
as a compatriot. For I am a Frenchman, Madame. 5 ’ 

Claire, the ungrateful woman, only comprehended 
one thing : it was that she had arrived in time. She 
was sure that from that time forth all would go 
well, and the simple thought that the stranger 
would owe his recovery to her, almost caused her to 
swoon in the presence of one of the greatest joys 
of her life. 


XY. 

In a large, bare chamber, simply but scrupulously 
neat, beneath gaudy curtains of printed muslin, 
Paul de Cherancy lay asleep. His sleep was uneasy, 
to judge by the irregular breathing, by the convul- 
sive movements which did not permit his limbs to 
relax. Claire, holding her daughter’s hand, ap- 
proached the iron bed. Hight was falling. That 
eagle’s nest, on the longest summer days, received 
no sun after five o’clock, A small, soft, white hand 
sought Paul’s brow and rested there, while Marthe, 
her eyes fixed upon her mother, watched her least 


THE CHARM BROKE tf. 


141 


sign as she would have watched the most capable 
physician. At the touch, which cooled his burning 
skin, Cherancy became calm, almost immediately. 
His fingers groped about, until they met the Count- 
ess’ other hand. Then, without opening his eyes, he 
murmured in a voice as faint as a sigh : 

“ You You Happiness ! — Thanks.” 

Slowly two tears escaped from beneath his heavy 
eyelids and fell upon his brown beard. Marthe, in 
a transport, as if at the sight of a miracle, said very 
softly : 

“Oh, mamma ! He has recognized you! We have 
done well to come ! We shall remain, shall we not 
mamma? ” The child paused, perceiving that her 
mother was weeping. 

“ How good you are,” she whispered, passing her 
tiny arm around Claire’s waist.' “ He will get well, 
I promise you. We will nurse him so carefully.” 

“ Ime. de Chalonne did not reply. That which 
occupied her at that moment was not the question 
“ Will the sick man recover ?” but,“ has he recognized 
me ? Does he know that he is speaking to me ? Is 
he thanking me . . or Nadia ? ” 

An hour later, Claire and her daughter dined hastily 
at a separate table in the long dining-room, with the 
pine floor resembling a refectory. When the little 
girl was in bed, and ready to go to sleep in the room 
adjoining her mother’s, the Countess returned to 
the invalid at the other end of the immense corridor. 
She found the doctor there ; he declared the symp- 
toms to be more reassuring. 


i4£ 


THE CHARM BROKEN 5 . 


“ Still,” said he, “ I can give no decided opinion 
yet. We have, alas, only too many anxieties ! I 
must confess there is a grave condition of the spine, 
and, on the other hand, I fear inflammation of the 
lungs. During the entire night, the second which 
she had spent by his bed-side, Claire nursed the sick 
man with the assiduity of a Sister of Mercy. But 
the order of the daughters of Saint-Vincent de Paul 
would soon be diminished in numbers, if their hearts 
all beat as rapidly beneath their gowns for their 
patients, as did that of Madame de Chalonne beneath 
her elegant corsage. She had not that resignation 
which, duty accomplished, bows before the sovereign 
will. In vain she said to herself : 

“ Does not that life for which I am contending 
with death belong to another ? ” 

She felt her own happiness, her personal interests, 
at stake in the struggle she was undertaking. At 
first, she was startled by it ; then, in that austere 
and silent solitude, by the uncertain light of the 
flickering lamp, she saw in her heart certain forms, 
until then confused, gradually reveal their contour. 
Soon a brilliant jet of implacable truth flooded her 
soul. It became impossible for her to stop the 
progress of her destiny. 

“ Alas ! ” sighed she ; “ I am condemned to suffer 
forever. For, were he to die, what would my life 
be? And yet, if he convalesces he will belong to 
another ... ! ” She rose in affright, for, by 

the side of her sorrow, she perceived something, up 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 143 

to that time ignored, a redoubtable struggle against 
herself. 

“ Good Lord,” she prayed ; “ only let him get 
well, and my blood, my tears shall flow before a 
human being suspects my secret.” 

Yery soon her fear disappeared, for that valiant 
heart felt itself to be invincible and strong, like a 
soldier who reaches an unexpected ambush! Oh! 
yes, an ambush ! She had walked for several days in 
ignorance and in darkness, and suddenly she awoke 
far, far away, in a strange land, where, of her free 
will, she would never have suffered herself to be led. 

Ah ! If it were to be done over again ! 

She paused, for she was loyal, even in the depths 
of her thoughts. She regretted nothing, and if, 
during the remainder of her life, she could say that 
she had saved that other life, the suffering, the 
struggle, would be her reward, her happiness. 

When the sun reappeared, she drew near the win- 
dow and fancied she was reawakening from a dream, 
a thousand leagues from the persons and things she 
had always known. As far as she could see, her 
eyes only perceived a gray wall crowned by miser- 
able pines. Already, in the court, the matutinal 
population of bathers, all Spanish, were moving 
about. Men, whose eyes alone appeared between 
their black felt hats and the capes thrown over their 
shoulders, walked along with rapid strides. Upon 
the granite staircases, along the paths cut beside the 
rocks, shadows moved silently towards the tap-rooms 
scattered among the mountains. 


144 


'IHE CHARM BROKEN. 


Sudden^, on the road which ran beside the small 
lake with the black waters, a noise was heard. It 
was a diligence of antique form, arriving with a great 
deal of bustle, drawn by a long file of mules har- 
nessed two and two. Three men, three whips, three 
rough voices made them gallop along. The coach- 
man, majestic upon his seat, assumed the important 
air of a captain doubling the cape. The mounted 
postilion at the head of the column, cracked his 
whip like a fine cavalier. L’adeltando, hanging to 
the foot-board, hurled curses at the quadrupeds. 
When he ceased, the ten beasts stopped too. 

Exhausted by the twenty-four hour’s ride from 
ITuesca, the nearest station, the travellers descended. 
Then, beneath the eyes of the royal riflemen in their 
elegant costumes, the officials unloaded sacks of dis- 
patches, and that sight reminded the Countess that 
she should write a letter. Should she not warn 
Nadia? Alas! What news should she give her? Just 
at that moment, the doctor came to pay his morn- 
ing visit. 

“No better,” said he, “but there is less excite- 
ment. That is probably the best of symptoms. 
The patient is calmer ; he no longer feels that he is 
alone. Madame, permit me to tell you that your — 
your — ” 

“ My friend,” said Claire simply. 

“ That your friend, if we save him, and I hope we 
shall, will owe his life to you. Between a faithful 
nurse, not speaking a word of French, and a nurse 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


145 


like you, what a difference! We shall keep you 
some time, I hope.” 

“ No ; but I shall soon be replaced by some one 
better.” 

The doctor gone, Claire wrote her letter, confining 
herself to a prompt recital, and making no comments 
on events. 

u You know why I came,” said she, in conclusion; 
“ you would have done the same in my place. If 
I had telegraphed to you, you would have been 
at Bordeaux, at the most, by this time. You could 
not have crossed the mountains in the night. By 
coming, I gained almost two days. Moreover, it 
would have been cruel to have exposed you to the 
risk of finding him dead. I had not the courage. 
How everything assures me that you will find him 
alive. At any rate, you will find me here. 

“ Is it really I writing you to come as a very sim- 
ple thing ? I do not know myself. But at such a 
time, conscience must not be questioned. That man 
must be saved. I have commenced : you will finish. 
Come.” 

Claire, somewhat calmer, slept two hours. Her 
maid, a serious and faithful person, took her place 
beside the invalid. Toward evening, Paul aroused 
somewhat from his lethargy; Mme. de Chalonne 
was there. He took her hand, kissed it, and mur- 
mured again : “ Thank you, Madame ! ” 

“ He has recognized me,” thought Claire. “ If he 
dies, he will carry that souvenir with him.” 

In the evening Paul was declared out of danger 


146 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


of all cerebral fever. There still remained all the 
symptoms of pneumonia, and a fever which reduced 
the sick man greatly. 

Another day passed ; the time came when Nadia 
should receive her cousin’s letter. From that 
moment Claire’s eyes were fixed upon the door of 
the telegraph office. To her great surprise the wire 
did not respond. 

What could be the cause of that silence? Was 
the letter lost ? Had Mme. Fresnel taken the train 
without thinking of sending a dispatch ? Was she 
vexed with her relative for having usurped her 
place? Mme. de Chalonne trembled with sorrow 
and shame at that thought, and yet she did not 
regret having acted as she had. But why did that 
man, from whom she desired, expected, hoped for 
nothing, trouble her life thus ? 

She must be resigned and wait. 

Fortunately, in that place, filled with guests — all 
strangers— no one paid any heed to the newcomer. 
Ladies were rare, the majority of them of modest 
rank. They knew in the establishment that a 
Frenchwoman was at Panticosa to nurse a traveler 
— a relative, no doubt, in danger of death. They 
prayed that he might recover, or, at least, that he 
would have sufficint strength to die elsewhere — the 
place was already dull enough. As for romantic 
surmises, the presence of little Marthe, constantly by 
her mother’s side, rendered them impossible. 

In that pure atmosphere of one of the highest 
elevations in Europe, the child’s health improved 


THE CHARJtf BROKEN. 


14 ? 

wonderfully. It even happened that she could con- 
tinue the treatment begun at Cauterets, certain 
springs at Panticosa being analogous. In short, 
nothing hastened Mme. de Chalonne’s departure, 
and everything bade her remain — everything, even a 
secret voice which she alone heard. 

The fifth day after her arrival in the mountains 
of Aragon, she received, to her great surprise, a let- 
ter from Nadia ; a letter with a black border and 
dated from Paris. “I now understand,” said her 
cousin, “ why you did not reply to my letter, which 
informed you of a serious event : M. Fresnel is dead. 

“ The mail which carried the news to you, passed 
you on the way : but if the news is fresh, the catas- 
trophe is not. It was at Chicago, at the beginning 
of January that my husband died, I know not how. 
Perhaps others know ; but they did not think it well 
to tell me, and you know I shall not inquire. As 
for the delay in informing me, his family, who treat 
me as a stranger, made no explanation. Poor man ! 
he had changed his name and, no doubt, often his 
residence. How did he die ? 

“ I pardon him all; but my God, why did I not know 
in January what I learned seven months later? 
Why did the news of my deliverance take so long to 
reach me ? Of what use will that liberty be to me 
henceforth ? My poor Paul is dying, is dead. Or he 
no longer wants me! You will see! I feel that 
fatality, that too late which attaches itself to lost 
causes ! I am calm to-day, it is the calmness of 
prostration. But there are six days. 


148 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Burn without reading it my last letter which is 
at Cauterets. It is the blasphemy of a pagan against 
Fate. 

“ For the time being all that I gain by my widow- 
hood is not to be able to care for the man to whom 
I have given myself. 

“ Would you go at the risk of seeming to reclaim an 
expired debt ? However, if it is certain that he is 
lost, nothing would prevent me from setting out and 
coming to see him die. My journey would then not 
seem interested, suspicious. So telegraph me, and 
pity me; pity me if I do not come, and pity me more 
if I do. They say that misfortunes never come 
singly. Ah, my heart no longer beats ! 

“ As soon as the intelligence arrived, I returned 
to Paris. It was necessary, if only to buy my black 
gown. And then I had business to attend to ; busi- 
ness! Is it not a horrible word to utter at this 
moment ? If you knew, as I know, the irony of my 
destiny. 

“ One thing only tortures me. It is to think that 
he may die with the thought that I am an unworthy 
creature. If you have any pity for my misery, de- 
liver me from that great sorrow, for the time left 
me to live. Shall he forget me as an evil-doer. 
Forget me ! Alas ! the priest will require him to for- 
get me ! But, at least, may he pardon me, and may 
he know that I have not betrayed him. Ho, I have 
not deceived him ; Claire, swear it to him on the Host, 
and speak to him of me as of an unfortunate, who 
owes to him her only moments of happiness, and 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


149 


who loves him, loves him, oh, my God how I love 
him ! And this is the way in which we are to part 
forever. Adieu ; I can write no more. ” 

Less than five minutes after Mme. de Chalonne 
had finished the perusal of that letter — with what a 
troubled heart! — the telegrapher forwarded this re- 
sponse : “ He is better. I will advise you when to 

come. Rely upon your sister and your God. ” 


XYI. 

It was the eighth day of Paul’s illness. 

All danger had disappeared, but his weakness was 
very great. More assiduous, more calm than ever, 
apparently, but paler, Claire de Chalonne awaited the 
moment when the convalescent could be informed 
without any danger of the news. 

With the latter the mind had not recovered as 
rapidly as the body. It seemed as if his patience, 
his energy, his puissant will had given way at the 
same time as his muscles. That man, once so strong, 
was as incapable as a child when it came to deciding 
or acting for himself; being towards her who waited 
upon him submissive, tender and tyrannical. As, dur- 
ing the early stages of his illness he had refused med- 
icine from any other hand than that of Claire, so, 
the danger past, he required that she should be there 
to hold the first food to his pallid lips. 

He seldom spoke, thanking her merely with his 
eyes, which had grown immense ; at times with a, 


150 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


a timid kiss upon the tips of the fingers of his pretty 
nurse. 

The time dragged slowly by in that anarchy of 
habits which succeeds the restoration to health. 
More day, more night, more moments regulated by 
nourishment and rest. On his wakeful nights he 
could not tell if the lamp was burning or if the rays 
of the sun glinted through the shades into his room. 

But he always knew if Mme. de Chalonne was 
there, if she was absent. The presence or absence 
of that fairy with the sweet smile alone marked the 
tw^o great divisions of time — the day and the night 
— of his existence, now restless, now peaceful, accord- 
ing as the easy chair which Claire occupied was 
filled or vacant. She had become the sunshine of 
his life, and if we can believe the wise men, the 
worship of the sun is the most natural of idolatries. 

As for the Countess, from moment to moment, 
the convalescent gained more and more of her heart. 
She no longer thought of sustaining that useless 
struggle against herself, but only of concealing her 
weakness from the eyes of others. One day she said 
to Paul, who was gazing at her with emotion : 

“ How true it is that every woman is a born Sister 
of Charity ! Would you believe that it now seems 
quite natural for me to nurse, as my brother, the 
friend of yesterday ? ” 

“ That means,” said he sadly, “ that you would 
have done as much for any other person in my place.” 

She started, reflected a second, and with the 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


151 


intrepidity of a woman who knows how to tell a 
falsehood, she said : 

“ Why yes, certainly .” 

“Well, it matters little,” sighed Paul. “One 
thing is certain, that without you, I should not be in 
this world.” 

In the depths of her loyal soul, Claire was aware of 
the cause which she was defending against herself. 
Nadia’s fate was in her hands. Paul’s heart must 
be cured. Something more must be done : he and 
Nadia must marry. But, first of all she must find 
out a favorable moment in which to tell the news to 
the invalid ; she must employ all of her feminine 
tact to give to another the man she had saved, whom 
she loved with all her soul. Claire was prepared 
for the sacrifice, and only awaited the hour to act. 
She would have considered it a task less hard, to 
pass fifteen nights at Paul’s bedside, and if she had 
listened to her inclinations, she would have disap- 
peared without saying anything, before broaching 
the fatal subject. 

Moreover, it was necessary that the ground should 
be well prepared. Not once, since her arrival at 
Panticosa, had her cousin’s name been pronounced. 
No allusion had been made to Mme. Fresnel’s exist- 
ence. And, even at that moment, the weakness, the 
nervous irritability of the convalescent were still so 
great that, in the interest of success, she feared to 
speak of Nadia. 

On the twenty-fifth of August, Cherancy left his 
room. Leaning on Claire’s arm and on Marthe’s 


152 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


shoulder, the latter very proud to support her friend’s 
tottering steps, Paul descended the staircase, which 
he did not remember mounting. The sun shone 
brightly upon the rocks. The flowers in the garden 
raised their drooping heads. The three pedestrians 
seated themselves upon a bench under the shade of 
some trees. Round about wandered several bathers 
with sallow complexions. No one ever knows what 
surprising shades a human face can assume if they 
have not seen a Spaniard with a diseased liver. 

The doctor, who was passing by upon his rounds, 
saw his patient, and advanced to congratulate him. 

“ Do you know,” said he, “ what my prescription 
is ? To leave here as soon as possible. Summer is 
drawing to a close, the nights are becoming chilly ; 
two-thirds of my patients have left. I will give you 
three days more, after which I shall drive you 
away. Come! confess you do not need me any 
longer.” 

Paul confessed nothing, and when the doctor had 
gone, neither the Countess, her daughter nor their 
companion uttered a word. It was owing to the 
fact that each of them, in his or her own fashion 
and in secret, regretted that pleasant intercourse 
which had to be interrupted and which could never 
be resumed. 

The evening they spent in Paul’s room in which a 
fire burned, to take the chill off the air; the lamp 
was discreetly shaded ; Cherancy was playing 
draughts with Marthe; the Countess’ eyes were 
fastened upon them, although she held a book in her 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


153 


hand which she made a pretense of reading. In 
due season, at a sign from her mother, the child 
rose and put away the draughts, preparatory to 
retiring. 

“ What a pity,” sighed Marthe, “ that we can not 
spend many, many evenings like this.” 

“Two still remain,” replied Paul sadly. “That is 
something.” 

He took a candle in order to escort Mme. de 
Chalonne and her daughter to the other end of the 
long building. A kiss upon the child’s brow, a very 
deep bow to the Countess, and they parted without 
any further demonstrations. Cherancy returned to 
his room, counting his steps in the interminable gal- 
lery. He was thinking of the resolution he should 
take, and while his reason said : “ Departure ! ” his 

heart said : “ Separation ! ” 

“ Oh, mad thought ! ” sighed he, “ Spare me this 
evening ! It will be time enough to suffer to-mor- 
row ! ” In the meantime, Claire de Chalonne watched 
her kneeling daughter at her prayers. On seeing 
that child of ten strike her breast, she examined 
herself. “Still two evenings! Ho, not two, one is 
too many. To-morrow at this hour, the work shall 
have been accomplished.” 

The following day the doctor was of the opinion 
that the convalescent should try his strength and 
spend three hours in the afternoon in the open air. 
Paul and his two companions took the only road 
which connected that desert, where Fate had brought 
together the three beings about to separate forever, 


154 THE CHARM BROKEN. 

with the rest of the inhabited globe. They walked 
by the side of the small lake, on the shore, the tnrf 
of which was already turning yellow, where were 
grazing large sheep which shook at every turn of 
their heads, their enormous bells with their cracked 
sounds. To their left the vertical granite wall. To 
the right, at the other side of the lake, a peak raised 
into the clouds its crown of snow from which floated 
like broken plume the froth from a cascade. 

Paul, once again the artist, glanced at the scene 
with an enraptured air, and felt his breast expand to 
the pure breeze. 

“ My God ! How beautiful that is ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ It would have been a pity to bring me here between 
four boards, instead of allowing me to walk here 
alive and happy, with my two guardian angels.” 

They crossed the marble bridge and Claire shud- 
dered as she thought of the anguish which had 
tortured her ten days before, as she followed the 
endless windings of the road. She shuddered again, 
when, on returning to the baths after a short rest, 
Cherancy showed her, almost lost in the sky beyond 
the buildings, the narrow fissure through which runs 
the path to Cauterets. 

“ If you knew,” said he, “ how ill I was on de- 
scending, what courage it required for me not to obey 
the voices of the abyss which called to me ! All 
would have been ended long ago. My friends would 
perchance have read the news in their papers. When 
I think that had it not been for the letter found in 
my pocket — ” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


155 


He paused, reminded of the absent one, of her who 
had written that letter. 

Mme. de Chalonne was on the point of speaking, 
thinking the opportunity at hand ; — but, seeing 
Paul hesitate, she resolved to wait. 

The falling shadows hastened their return. The 
same vague sadness oppressed them all, even the 
child. By a mute accord they avoided parting, feeling 
as necessary one to the other, as lost in that corner 
of the mountains as if they had been on an abandoned 
island of the Ocean. Their supper they ate together, 
the convalescent partaking heartily of the food. 
Before long he should require all his strength ! Once 
again the fire chanted its gay hymn in the brightly 
lighted chamber. Once again some one thought : 

“ If it could only be the same every evening 
of our lives ? ” But that time it was not little 
Marthe. Tired out by the mountain air, she fell 
asleep in her arm-chair, her pretty dark head leaning 
against the back. Separated by that angel, — could it 
be called separated, —Claire and Paul kept their eyes 
fixed on her sweet face, for both, at that hour, felt 
that it was best. 

“ Angel that I bore,” prayed the Countess,” obtain 
strength from God for me, your mother ! You may 
sleep this evening, dearest ! But, in the future you 
must remain awake. We shall be alone : I shall 
require all your affection. Alas ! what shall I do 
when another gains it ? I shall be alone, alone for- 
ever, alone with the thought that I have done my 
duty. For I shall do it ; the moment has come ! ” 


156 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“She closed her eyes an instant, summoned all 
her courage, and, speaking almost in a whisper, in 
order not to awaken her daughter, she said to Paul : 

“You feel well, do you not? You are strong? 
You can listen to a a serious conversation ? ” 

“ Y es,” he replied, starting. “ I am well. My 
mind, if not my body, has regained its energy. It 
is time to leave here ; I know it. The air of Panti- 
cosa is not beneficial to me. Ah ! no. It is perfid- 
ious and dangerous m its serene purity. I know 
it, you see, without my doctor telling me and with- 
out you reminding me of it.” 

Mme. de Chalonne seemed not to see the heart- 
broken smile of Cherancy, for she kept her eyes cast 
down upon her folded hands. She continued : 

“ It is something else I have to say to you. You 
are about to hear grave news, and if I had not 
wished you to hear it from my lips alone, I should 
not have remained here this evening. M. de Cher- 
ancy, Nadia is a widow.” 

“ Great God ! ” he exclaimed, half-rising from the 
chair into which he had fallen. “ A widow ! Since 
when ?” 

“More than six months. It has taken all that 
time for the unfortunate man’s death to reach 
France. My cousin has known it only a week. 
Now do you understand why she did not come ? 
Were you not surprised to see a friend, until then 
unknown, in that place — which was not hers ? ” 

“ I was too happy and too weak to think,” mut- 
tered Paul, very low. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


157 


Meeting a glance full of reproach, he hastened to 
add: 

“I was so ill, so discouraged, so depressed! I 
thought of nothing but that you would save me, and 
that I was happy to be saved by you. A widow ! ” 
he repeated. “ For six months ! ” 

“ Yes, a widow ; that is to say free. It is for that 
reason that she did not come. ‘ Were I to enter in my 
mourning/ she wrote to me, ‘ who knows what he 
would think ; that I had come to care for him or to 
force him into a marriage.’ That fear formerly, 
would not have stopped her, but now!— I have 
allowed you to read one of her letters^ You 
could see what was passing in that mind so proud, 
so bitterly humiliated since she has trembled for 
your life. At this moment she knows your body 
to be cured, but she does not know, poor Nadia, if 
your heart is cured like the rest.” 

Paul was silent. On his face could be read the 
story abruptly recalled of a cruel time of his life, 
perhaps too of the memory of hours not so far away 
and more sweet. 

“Listen,” said Claire, mistaking the cause of the 
trouble she saw, “ do you think that these hands 
which have cured your body, would be capable of 
burying your honor, forever ? It runs no risk, believe 
me, on the road which duty traces for you, and 
which is also that of happiness.” 

Paul had leaned his elbows on the table and buried 
his face in his hands. 

“I believe you,” he sighed, “when you tell me 


158 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


that my honor is safe. My confidence in you is such 
that your word does more to convince me than all 
the proofs . . .” 

He paused a moment, made an effort, and con- 
tinued with sad bitterness : 

“ All the proofs which human power could give 
me. But if you knew . . if you knew ! If I confessed 
to you at this moment that I am struggling to chase 
away the shameful, scornful, ignoble regret of not 
having been completely killed, since — .” 

“ M. de Cherancy,” severely interrupted the 
young lady, “ only one word remains to be added. 
My role is ended, and I shall leave you to-morrow. 
I shall take away, as recompense, shall I not, the 
satisfaction of having devoted myself to an honor- 
able man.” 

“ Yes ! ” he exclaimed, his voice, his position, his 
expression suddenly changing. “ Oh ! yes ! Go in 
peace ! You can at least think that. If you think 
of me, remember that the man saved by your incred- 
ible pity was not unworthy of it. May God bless 
you to the last day of your life ! ” 

“ May He bless us ! ” corrected Mme. de Chalonne 
gravely. “ We must both be happy. We shall be, 
I am sure. You shall see.” 

Then for a long time they gazed on one another. 
According to appearances, the happiness of which 
their lips spoke was not in their souls. Notwith- 
standing their efforts to smile, they both wept. 

Little Marthe had not stirred. But, with eyes 
wide open, she gazed at them in surprise. 


XVII. 


On the morning of the following day, Paul, com- 
ing from the telegraph office, met the Countess and 
her daughter in the little garden with the drooping 
flowers. 

“ I have just,” said he, “ telegraphed my intended 
arrival to Paris.” 

Claire offered him her hand. That was her reply. 

“ Before that,” continued Paul, “ I saw my doctor. 
The exeat is signed. I leave to-morrow morning. 
But not by the Marcadau this time, rest assured. 1 
am going by the ladies’ road ; Salient, Gabas and 
the Eaux-Chaudes. At Pau, I shall, acting on the 
doctor’s advice, rest a day.” 

“ That is prudent,” said Claire. 

“ Of course, it goes without saying, that we shall 
travel together, does it not? The same carriage 
will do for us, and I shall once more have the pleas- 
ure of seeing my young friend, Marthe, caracole on 
her mule, on crossing the mountains.” 

At any other time, that prospect would have 
caused the young horsewoman to leap with joy. 
But it was easy to see that the thought of departing 
pained her. Seated on a bench, she caressed in 
silence a superb dog of which she had become very 
fond and which accompanied her in all her walks. 

Mme. de Chalonne after a moment’s reflection, 
replied : “ I think I will let you go alone. To-mor- 
row is a little too soon for me, and I think — ” 

159 


160 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ But last night vou said you would leave to- 
day ? ” 

“ I did not then think, it is true,” said the Count- 
ess, “ that my daughter could continue her Cauterets 
treatment here. The waters of Panticosa work 
wonders, and it would be madness to interrupt the 
* cure ’ a second time. Look at the little one ! What 
an air of health she has ! Since our arrival here, she 
has an enormous appetite.” 

Marthe, under the pretext of caressing her friend, 
the dog, put her lips to his large curly head, and 
murmured, very low : “ My poor Bramatuero ! I 
do not eat anything! If you knew! I left the 
greater part of my chocolate, just now. But it is 
not necessary to tell it.” 

Bramatuero was capable of doing his part in that 
quartette, where each one seemed to have sworn to 
silence. Paul, very much discomfited to find that 
he was to travel alone, maintained silence, too. 
Until noon, time was spent in making a tour of the 
shops where they sold the products of local industry. 
Gifts were exchanged between the three com- 
panions. The Countess would only accept a chaplet 
of Pyrenees stone, for several pesetas. The child, 
on the other hand, was forced to accept a fine man- 
tilla, for ten louis. 

“ What shall you do with it ? ” asked her mother. 
“'It is much too pretty for you ! ” 

“Ah! mamma, I will lend it to you.” 

No sooner said than done. The Countess wore 
the rich lace all day ; it made of her a senora 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


161 


dangerous to gaze upon, even for those sick people 
better cured than Paul. The latter was presented 
with a cane by the mother, and, by the daughter, 
with one of those wooden animals carved at Lucerne. 
Then they went to luncheon, for the bell had rung, 
but, to tell the truth, no one ate anything. 

Towards one o’clock they set out for a walk. If 
you are not an active member of the Alpine Club, 
Panticosa will not offer you any choice of promen- 
ades; there is only one. They therefore walked 
beside the lake whose waters, on that day, were 
almost blue. 

About two hundred paces from the baths, the 
pedestrians were joined by an old woman who was 
returning to the valley, driving before her a micro- 
scopic donkey. The animal, free from all burden, 
rambled tranquilly along, not finding even a thistle 
to divert him from his philosophical reflections. 
Undoubtedly he was wondering by what irony of 
fate it was necessary for him daily to climb the hill- 
side, bowed beneath his burden, while he carried 
nothing on descending. That time he had counted 
without his host, for the sight of that humble 
courser had reawakened young Marthe’s adventur- 
ous instincts. The donkey received a load such as 
he had never known and set out at a trot, beaten 
vigorously by the old woman, who scented a wind- 
fall. Bramatuero ran ahead, uttering yelps which 
filled the narrow valley with echoes. 

For the first time in their lives, with the excep- 
tion of the day on which they had, with such diffi- 


162 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


culty, concluded the sale of a painting, Countess de 
Chalonne and Paul de Cherancy found themselves 
entirely alone. 

“ What a dear creature that child is ! ” said he, 
instinctively choosing the only subject which 
imposed no constraint upon them. “You do not 
know how much I love her and how much I shall 
always love her.’* 

“ I hope so. That will, moreover, in a short while 
be your duty, since you will become her uncle.” 

“ Her uncle ? ” repeated Paul, mechanically. 

“ Yes, or something near it. Well, I really 
believe there exists between you two a more than 
ordinary affection. I noticed that child last night 
while she was playing with you ; her eyes beamed 
with tenderness. Do you know what I have 
thought ? ” 

“ Ho,” replied Cherancy, who for the moment was 
not a man of many words. 

“ I have thought that in sending me to Panticosa, 
against all anticipation, God had an object, and that 
object was to give to that child a faithful protector. 
Poor little one ! She is so alone in life !” 

“ Alone ! with a mother like you ? ” 

“ The best of mothers is only a woman ; that is to 
say, something strangely weak. Remain always 
Marthe’s friend— you, who are so good and so 
strong. Remain her devoted friend, even when the 
unhappy days have passed, w T hen happiness — ” 

“ Happiness ! ” exclaimed Paul, standing still. 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


163 


“ Of what can you be thinking, to fancy that it will 
ever exist for me ? ” 

“ My God ! ” moaned Claire, wringing her hands. 
“Have I deserved to hear such words? That is, 
then, the future awaiting you, my poor Hadia. 
Without him, lost; with him, unhappy for ever, 
perhaps ! ” 

“Unhappy? Oh, no! Let the present enlighten 
you as to the future. Ten days ago, notwithstanding 
your advice, your prayers, I fled from Paris. You 
addressed to me three words last night : ‘ Nadia is 

free? And I set out. I trample under foot all the 
rest ; I hasten to pay the sacred debt, to give my 
name, my entire life. If you are not satisfied, Mad- 
ame, you are difficult to please.” 

“ Ah ! but you are far from pardoning ! ” 

“ You mean from forgetting, for I pardoned from 
the very first. To pardon is nothing. It is to bury 
the dead after night has fallen on the field of battle. 
To resuscitate them, to heal their wounds, to fasten 
limbs to their mutilated bodies; that is to forget . 
Christ pardoned Calvary ; he did not forget it. The 
cross, which rises everywhere to remind the human 
race of it, is the proof.” 

“Is it possible that one single moment has left in 
your heart such a flood of bitterness ? ” 

“ One moment ! But what a moment ! She who 
forgot me during that moment can not reproach me 
for having during five years given the shadow of a 
thought to another. And, during those five years, 
do you think that I have not often met agreeable 


164 


THE CHARM BROKElf. 


vice, or virtue still more attractive. But neither my 
years nor my ears belonged to me. For her , on the 
other hand, a few weeks of assiduity, a few manoeu- 
vers, sufficed. I was deposed, driven out, as of no 
consequence, as an unworthy servitor ! ” 

“ The error of a moment ! ” 

“ But during that moment, another took my place. 
He was proclaimed master ; I, the dethroned sover- 
eign, was put to flight ! ” 

“ Come,” said Claire, “ many sovereigns, to-day, 
would be glad to know so short an exile. What 
woman had ever a more sincere, more rapid revul- 
sion of feeling ? If you knew how she suffers, how 
she weeps, how she curses that fatal moment, with 
what trembling fervor she adores you ! Ah ! if 
I were a man, I should have liked to have tried thus 
her I loved. What can you fear, henceforth ?” 

“ From her, nothing. I think, I am sure of it. 
But for myself ? . . . To-morrow at this hour, I 

shall have crossed the mountains which have sepa- 
rated me for ten days from the rest of the world, 
and in a few months, no doubt, I shall have 
sealed my destiny. Shall I have succeeded as well 
in closing the door upon certain memories, too 
sweet? . . . Shall I have forgotten the noble 

woman without whom I should have died ? ” 

“ Oh, as for that,” replied Mme. de Chalonne, 
attempting to smile, “ you know that I nursed you 
for another. It is Nadia alone who should be 
thanked. She cured you through my hand.” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


165 


“ Pity her, if as you say, Fate chose a hand 
which replaced hers too well.” 

She, at least, has gained in this way : that she 
has not been condemned by you as the only one who 
forgets,” said Claire. 

And, as her companion, without replying, lowered 
his head : 

“ Marthe ! ” cried she to her daughter, “ you are 
overheating yourself ! Leave your donkey and join 
us.” 

The child obeyed. The donkey trotted along the 
rocky road which led to the village. The old 
woman put her money in her pocket, and hoping 
for another meeting : “ Por la manana ! ” (Until to- 
morrow ! ”) followed her beast. “ To-morrow ! . . ” 
repeated Paul, wearily. 

A nod of his head completed the sentence, and 
the pedestrians, turning, resumed the road to the 
hotel almost in silence. Cherancy sought his rooms 
to prepare his luggage. Marthe went in search of 
her nurse. The Countess entered the small chapel 
with the white walls, the bright pictures; and the 
chaplet given her by Paul that very morning, was 
clasped between her fingers for some time. 

That evening Claire sent word that she was tired, 
that she would dine in her own apartment, and that 
she bade the traveler farewell. The latter, by the 
same means, sent his adieux to mother and daughter, 
lie ate little and slept uneasily. Early the next 
morning the carriage awaited him. He superintended 
the loading of his luggage, at the same time casting 


166 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


a sly glance towards a certain window, whose shut- 
ters seemed to be closed. 

The traveler shook hands with excellent Senor 
Candau, thanking him for having so opportunely 
overhauled his pockets on a certain evening. The 
coachman only awaited the order to whip up his 
horses. There was no longer any excuse for delay, 
yet Paul did not start, still hoping for a last word, a 
last sign from Claire. 

“Is it possible that she has determined not to 
appear ?” thought he. “How is it that she does not 
divine how much I suffer, what a night I passed ? 
To punish me with such severity for the few words 
I could not restrain ! what does she fear ? all is 
ended now. I know her ; I know that she is above 
reproach and without weakness. But what would 
she have lost by showing me a little of that tender 
pity which comprises the weakness of others P 

It was useless to wait any longer. Already the 
traveler had his hand upon the door when he per- 
ceived, several paces off, the companion of his prom- 
enade of the preceding day. God save you from 
experiencing certain dark moments when the mute 
caress, the glance of a dog becomes a precious con- 
solation ! Paul underwent one of those moments of 
bitterness. 

“ Come here, Bramatuero\ ” he called. 

With two bounds the animal was beside him. 
Then taking the large head between his hands the 
traveler put his lips to the rough hair. 

“You,” said he under his breath, “will see her 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


167 


soon ! ” Such were, for lack of others, his adieux at 
Panticosa. A second later, he was on the way, and 
the white houses, the little garden, the lake with its 
gray water, disappeared successively. 

In the meanwhile, she, whom he almost cursed for 
her coldness, was weeping bitter tears, and gazing 
after the carriage which was disappearing. Claire 
had no longer need to struggle ; she was no longer 
obliged to appear cold, inexorable and hard. She 
stood erect, behind her blinds, in the large room 
where, since the night before, the lamp was still 
burning. She was very pretty at that moment, 
pretty with a kind of beauty which no one attrib- 
uted to her. Her ebony tresses fell upon her superb 
arms ; one of her hands was pressed to her throb- 
bing white bosom ; her entire form, in its lightjgown 
which she had hastily donned, trembled. She resem- 
bled a fine animated statue ; no longer that of Duty, 
unless it was Duty vanquished by Love, and hiding 
her defeat. 

An hour later, Mme. de Chalonne, still pale, but 
to all appearances as calm as ever, crossed the gar- 
den towards the office of the administrator of the 
baths. When she issued from it, Bramatuero was 
with her. 

“ It is a fancy of my daughter’s,” she had said, as 
if to excuse that acquisition. 

The child was not there to protest that all she did 
was attributed to caprice. 


XVIII. 


Paul and Nadia met again forty-eight hours after 
the incidents just narrated. 

“ My God ! but you are still pale and thin ! ” 
were Madame Fresnel’s first words. 

“And you, poor darling!” replied Paul, kissing 
the hands extended to him. 

Indeed, Nadia was changed the most. The mourn- 
ing which she wore, mourning for a near relative 
rather than for a husband, augmented her pallor. 
Upon her hands, still white but less plump, stood out 
a network of blue veins — the first unmistakable 
indication of the appearance of the autumn of life 
in woman. Threads of silver, though rare, had 
come; but they were lost in the abundant wealth of 
gold. The touching charm of the face was still 
there. Beauty had become resignation, calmness, 
melancholy. It was evident that the woman had 
suffered ; that nothing would ever remove from her 
smile that indefinable blight which one cold morn- 
ing leaves upon the summer flowers. The October 
rose is still the rose, but where is the perfume of 
May? 

“ Nadia, here I am!” said Paul, with grave gen- 
tleness. “ Here I am, forever ! Of the past only 
one thing remains: the affection which unites us, 
and the promises which bind us.” 

“ Ah,” she exclaimed, “ you are better than I ! ” 

She sobbed, her head resting upon her friend’s 
168 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


169 


breast. But that time they were very sweet tears. 
Paul, kissing her brow, replied : 

“I am not better than you. I swear to you I 
never thought that for a single moment. But if 
that thought had occurred to me, it would be very 
far from me now.” 

“ Why ? ” she asked, struck by the conviction with 
which Cherancy spoke. 

“ Because, I know myself better. But,” he con- 
tinued, changing the subject and looking about him, 
“ I see nothing here that was once familiar to me. 
Has fire worked havoc with your apartment? This 
salon is entirely changed.” “ Yes,” she said, with a 
melancholy smile. “ You can look into every nook. 
All that you can see has never been displayed to the 
eye of any other man.” 

Paul, in his turn, felt moved almost to tenderness. 
“ Ah ! ” he cried, “ it is you who are better than I ! ” 

“ All those changes were not made for you, but 
for me. You have traveled, you have seen other 
scenes; but I, I spend my days here without any 
diversion, and I took a dislike to the smallest article 
in this room — in this one only. For thank God! 
the other rooms can remind me of only one thing : 
the tears I shed there alone ! ” 

“Come!” said Paul, “that is all at an end. For 
the last time in our lives we have conjured up those 
memories. On my honor, I shall never mention 
them to you again. From to-day a new future 
begins.” 

They dined together, as they had so often done. 


170 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Paul had the dishes he liked. In every glance, 
every gesture of his friend he divined that she 
would have liked to serve him upon her knees. 

Dinner hour was spent in a recital of his illness. 

“What a woman that Claire is!” said Nadia. 
“ We owe all to her. You know all that she has 
done for you; but could you read the letters she 
wrote to me ! Later on I will tell you many things. 
W^hat surprises me is that she did not give you 
the least message from me.” 

Paul made no reply. He maintained silence, and 
the remainder of the evening the Countess’ name 
was not mentioned. He did not remain late, for the 
traveler, still convalescent, had need of rest. He 
took leave with a chaste kiss upon the brow of 
her whom he henceforth should look upon as his 
betrothed. Neither of them confessed to him or 
herself, on the days which followed, the thought 
which, during the entire night, had banished sleep 
from their couches. 


XIX 

September had scarcely begun : Paris was deserted. 
If there was a spot which Paul and Nadia would have 
had occasion to fly from, it was certainly Paris. 
Both required pure air and scenes of a tranquilizing 
nature. For both of them, after having met again, 
experienced without acknowledging it the same 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


171 


sentiment : the dread of solitude, or rather of a tete- 
a-tete. 

Alas ! for them began the harsh apprenticeship 
of wounds to hide, of smiles to be feigned, of 
suspicious thoughts to be interrupted, the constant 
precaution of avoiding certain names, certain words 
which brought the silence of death after them. They 
had comprehended that after their first interview, 
and courageously they undertook their task. In 
each of those noble hearts, one thought governed the 
other : 

“ At any price, happiness. As for me ? What 
does it matter ? ” Then too, between them, what 
a storm of tenderness, of gentleness, of smiles. And 
when they separated, what sadness ! And still more 
cruel, what lassitude ! To leave Paris ! How would 
they dare ? There, at least, propriety, the necessities 
of life separated them for many hours. They could, 
at frequent intervals, unloosen the armor, leave off 
the stifling mask. But continual intercourse, the 
constant tete-a-tete in the heart of a valley in the 
Tyrol, in some village by the mountain side, as 
formerly ! . . . 

The mere thought of facing that deprived them 
of strength. And yet their lungs required other air 
than the vitiated atmosphere of the warm streets. 
Daily, they took long walks in the picturesque sub- 
urbs of Paris. But, on the fresh slopes of the river, 
beneath the majestic beeches of Saint-Germain, on 
the green hill-sides of Marly, one thought followed 
them. Nadia did not cease to see her incompre- 


172 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


hensible weakness. Paul, more to be pitied yet, was 
haunted by the vision of two women : one, whom it 
was necessary to pardon of a semi-treason, the other 
whose touching kindness and radiant charms he was 
obliged to forget. Of the two tasks, he felt that 
the first was not the more difficult. When, occa- 
sionally, belated in their promenade, the two com- 
panions seated themselves in some rustic inn to dine, 
Cherancy saw before his eyes the little table at Pan- 
ticosa, that first meal of the convalescent taken 
opposite Claire, whose black eyes, sparkling with 
pleasure, followed every morsel carried to the lips 
of her invalid. Instinctively, he sought the con- 
strained gaiety of little Marthe, careful not to 
weary her friend. 

For he could not picture the mother without the 
daughter, and in the improbable dreams in which 
he often indulged, they were never separated, one 
from the other. One day, at Montmorency, the 
sight of a pretty child riding on a donkey made 
him turn pale. He looked about for the old Span- 
iard, and Bramatuero , and — above all — for a dark 
lady, with an erect form, a smile now sweet, now 
sad. All, alas ! were far away. 

Fate, ever pitiless, did not spare poor Nadia the 
blows from its sling. On crossing a field in the 
Louveciennes quarter, they saw a lot of colts eating 
the grass in the midst of a vast enclosure. Mme. 
Fresnel had always been fond of horses. She 
inquired the name of the owner of the stud. 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


173 


“ Those are,” replied a man working near by, 
“Viscount de Saint Rieul’s race-horses.” 

That name, so unexpected, produced upon Nadia 
the effect which can be imagined. Anything rather 
to have heard that name ! But she remembered, 
too, that she had resolved to tell Cherancy how 
Roqueserviere had been put to flight. With her con- 
stant desire to be frank, she related the entire story 
of Saint- Jean-de-Luz, and of Claire’s intervention. 

To her great surprise, Paul was not astonished. 
But for the first time he showed severity towards 
Mme. de Chalonne. “I knew of the adventure,” 
said he, “ and not considering that it was very much 
to any one’s credit, I kept it in my archives. The 
secrets which touch a woman’s honor should be 
sacred to all the world ; to another woman above 
all!” 

“That is,” thought the poor penitent, “what 
Claire has gained by her devotion, and what I have 
gained by my frankness. Ah ! decidedly, silence is , 
better for all of us.” 

Some time after, while reading a journal aloud — 
a thing which formerly he did not do — Paul chanced 
upon the description of a hunting accident at Poitou, 
on the estates of that same viscount de Saint-Rieul. 
A guest of the wealthy land-owner, the Marquis de 
Roqueserviere, had been shot in the side by the 
viscount. Then followed, said the journal, great 
anxiety among the huntsmen, despair on the part of 
the author of the accident. Fortunately the shot 
had struck a pocket in which were some thickly- 


174 


THE CHARM BROKEtf. 


folded papers. The wound, not a complicated one, 
presented no serious dangers. 

“ Awkward ! ” grumbled Paul, shrugging his 
shoulders. Nadia turned as pale as death, and burst 
into tears. “That is something to weep about,” 
said Cherancy, with an effort maintaining his self- 
control. “ Every year we hear of poachers killing 
the guards. This time it was the poacher who 
received the shot.” 

“Ah ! ” replied Nadia, as she wiped her eyes, “ It 
was not the accident at which I was weeping, but 
your words.” 

She wrote to her cousin that same evening : 

“You have read that horrible hunting accident! 
It disturbed me to such a degree that I have come 
to pour out my heart to you, silent friend. I need 
to cry to some one that I curse that derangement of 
the human brain called love. I curse our sex, which, 
since the first woman, has scattered misfortune 
around her. 

“ A man deceives his friend in a cowardly manner. 
The deceived calmly assassinates. A third person 
reads the shocking story in my presence, and what 
exclamation do you think escapes him? /Awkward . 5 
That is all that his mind suggests to him, because 
the thirst for vengeance possesses him as well ! 

“ And such is the heart, ulcerated, bruised, bleed- 
ing, upon which, for life, I am to lean my head ! 

“ I swear to you, that were I to follow my inclina- 
tions I should already be far from this odious world. 
My poor Claire ! if you knew how unhappy I am ! 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


175 

If you knew how I weep when I am alone ! How I 
weep at the very moment I am writing to you ? Ah, 
I feel it : all is ended ! All happiness here below is 
dead for me ; not that he does not still love me, 
that being, noble and generous in spite of everything. 
That rancor is a proof that love still exists. But 
myself ! . . . Something is broken in my miserable 
body : I no longer respect myself ; I no longer have 
confidence in myself ; I no longer vibrate at a breath. 
My God ! where is my former enthusiasm ? My 
momentary aberration has dispelled the dream ; life 
appears to me in its heart-breaking reality. The 
charm is broken ! 

“ But you shall be the only one to know of my 
suffering. I belong to Paul, and I shall pay my 
debt, since he claims it. He shall have, I swear, the 
most devoted, the most faithful of wives 1 Ah ! 
faithful ! that will not be difficult now. When the 
wings of a bird hang mutilated, one need not fear to 
leave the cage open ! ” 

The leaves were beginning to turn yellow ; the 
days were less fine ; the walks grew more rare and 
shorter. With the same heroism Paul and Nadia 
continued the dolorous task of deceiving one another. 
If the religion of human sacrifice, like the other, has 
saints and martyrs, the two beings whose torture I 
have to relate, would merit shrines. 

“ Nothing by halves ! ” Such was their motto, a 
device fatal or glorious. 

For some time Mme. de Chalonne had been at La 
Pree, and her melancholy, from day to day more 


176 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


evident, struck everyone. Never, since the earliest 
days of her widowhood, had she appeared so down- 
cast. At the beginning of J anuary she received a 
letter which was not calculated to sooth her. Ch6r- 
ancy wrote thus : 

“ To-morrow, the first year of your cousin’s widowhood expires. 
I wish to wait until that day to tell her and to hear from her the 
words which will unite us forever. To-morrow I shall no longer 
belong to myself, but to-day I still do. I have, for twenty-four 
hours, the right to think, to remember, to speak. . . Of what 

use is that ? you will say. None ! But those on the point of 
death feel the need of leaving the trace behind them of their last 
thoughts. With me it takes the form of a desire : To be certain 
that I leave you satisfied with me. I should, perhaps, thank you 
again for having climbed the mountains to save my life. Excuse 
me, Madame, I do not thank you. You cured me, but you made 
me pay dearly for that cure. 

“ You let me spend alone that gloomy evening preceding my 
departure. You let me leave Panticosa without raising your 
hand to my lips a last time. Panticosa! Can that name carry so 
much sweetness to the ear, so much bitterness to the heart ? 

“Like the woman in the poem which you made me repeat 
twice on a certain day, you go upon your way without hearing 
that which it is not necessary to hear, without seeing that which 
you need not see. Having come to nurse a sick man in another’s 
place, the cure accomplished, you disappeared. So much the 
worse for the sick man if he carried away with him the germ of 
another illness more incurable. 

“ Do you remember our breakfast on the grass on the day of 
your f6te and Marthe’s roses — the surprise — concealed in the 
paper which so illy hid them ? They were not meant to be seen, 
and. you did not see them. You did not ask: ‘For whom are 
those flowers ? ’ And when they were disclosed how excellently 
your astonishment was simulated. 

“ At Panticosa, too, flowers were hidden — not much better — 
very near your hand ; poor flowers, blooming in sadness ! My last 
act of a free man, of a man who can still speak to-day, is to say 
to you *. ‘ The flowers are for you ! Keep them, Madame, they 
are the last that will bloom in my life.’ 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


177 


“ Now, adieu! X am going to seal my fate. I am going to 
give myself away. Miserable gift. But the surrender will be 
still worse. And then you will be content ; you, the incarnation 
of loyalty. At that price, I shall always have your esteem, and 
I shall see from afar your smile so pure, so severe at times, and 
yet the sweetest that I have seen on the lips of woman. 

“Adieu! Kiss Marthe for me and tell her that I adore her. 
Allow to float between us two the eternal echo of that supreme 
word. Cherancy.” 

“ Ah, the unfortunates ! ” exclaimed Claire, after 
having read that letter. 

She remained alone several hours, locked in her 
room, permitting her grief to have free scope. From 
day to day she tasted of the mournful joy of suffer- 
ing freely. She became intoxicated with that bitter 
medicine, as other women infuse into their veins the 
poison which lulls to sleep. She had made a bargain 
with her conscience which comforted her. Had she 
not the right to love Paul since he had accused her 
all her life of coldness and of cruelty ? Every trans- 
port of her heart was atoned for by a tear. Who 
could do otherwise than weep ? 

They say that certain thoughts pervade the air in 
the manner of a subtle perfume. Claire did not 
mention to her daughter the letter she had received, 
still less what she had experienced on reading it. 
Why, on that evening, when alone with her mother, 
who always assisted her to disrobe, did the child ask 
a thousand questions about Cherancy ? Oh, mothers, 
how those childish questions at times cause you to 
lower your heads ! How many there are among you 
who evade them harshly. Between Mme.de Chalonne 
and her daughter such a feeling did not exist, and 


m 


THE CHARM BR0REM. 


Marthe could chat at her ease. For an hour Claire 
was happy, happy between the two beings, the dear- 
est to her in the world; one of whom she held by 
the hand, the other whose name softly caressed her 
ear. She was happy without remorse, for she 
thought a love governed all others in her heart, the 
love of her daughter. 

Finally Marthe grew weary. Her pretty, brown 
head sank upon its snowy pillow. For several 
moments the mother waited, finding, for once, that 
sleep came too quickly. Suddenly the child opened 
her eyes : 

u Mamma,” said she, “ I wanted to ask you one 
thing. What would you say if I tried to write 
a letter to M. Paul, to-morrow ?” Would you correct 
my errors?” 

“You may try,” replied Mme. de Chalonne, kiss- 
ing her daughter’s brow, “now go to sleep, my 
angel.” 

In the course of a few days, Paul received a four 
page letter from his young friend. Marthe wrote a 
line about her mother, four about herself, the rest 
about Bmmatuero. Claire had considered it best to 
render the child no assistance, although a trace of 
her hand-writing cculd be seen in some doubtful 
terminations of participles, precious corrections 
which Cherancy studied with zeal. 

(C Well,” concluded Marthe, “ Bramatuero has 
replaced you. Twenty times a day I ask him: 
where is M. Paul ? Then he barks and wags his tail. 


THE CHARM BROKE#. 


179 

Mamma then caresses him and says she has never 
seen a dog with such a memory.’’ 

God knows the innocent missive contained no 
secrets, and yet Paul did not show it to Nadia when 
he visited her a few hours after having received it. 

He decided that during that visit the formal 
words should be spoken and final arrangements 
made. But, on entering Nadia’s salon, he perceived 
that she was very much depressed. 

“ What ails you, dearest % ” he asked. 

Without replying, she held towards him a news- 
paper in which he read once more a name which she 
seemed fated never to forget; Roqueserviere was dead. 

The wound, due to the Yiscount’s imprudence, 
proved more serious than they at first thought it 
would. One lung had been injured, and the doctor 
had advised him to spend the approaching winter at 
Cannes. But instead of recovering, the wounded 
man grew weaker and weaker. A cough began, and 
handsome Edmond died, carrying with him, at least 
so the reporter affirmed, the unanimous regrets of 
all those who had known him.” 

Paul frowned and, gazing into space, forgetting 
that he was not alone, he murmured: 

“Not so very awkward, Saint Rieul.” 

“Oh, my God! he does not even forgive the 
dead ! ” moaned Nadia. 

Cherancy could not restrain a shudder at that 
reproach. “ Forget that unworthy speech,” said he, 
suddenly recalled to himself. “ Listen to me, Nadia. 
To-day your year of widowhood ends. This is the 


180 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


time I awaited to ask you to be my wife. I entered 
here, I vow, with those words on my lips. Alas! 
poor darling! We all become more or less savages 
when there is the question of the woman who belongs 
to us, who is to be ours. Ah ! see here, I can not 
help thinking that this journal has brought us a good 
omen. Perhaps I showed myself barbarous in my 
joy. But I have suffered bo much at the thought 
that another man lived who — 

“For pity’s sake,” interrupted Nadia; “do not 
say any more. And since the death of a man was 
required to make you happy, you may be so. As for 
me, until the last hour of my life as of yours, I will 
give you all that is best in me, my dear Paul.” 

He opened his arms without replying, and the 
newly betrothed bride felt a chill at her heart 
beneath the kiss she received. 

“What is there surprising in that ? ” thought she. 
“We have exchanged our vows in the presence of a 
coffin. Ah ! dreams of other days, where are ye ! ” 


XX. 

To two persons only — to her old friend, Sireuil, 
and to the Countess — did Nadia impart her plans for 
her second marriage. 

Sireuil came the same day to the future Ime. de 
Cherancy’s and congratulated her warmly. 

“ That is right,” he cried. “ No news could have 


181 


THE CHARM BROKEN". 

caused me more joy. Fate owed you compensation; 
you are receiving it complete, which is not custom- 
ary. You will return to your world, which found 
the name of Fresnel somewhat short, even before 
that name became sullied. Cherancy has intellect, 
fortune, talent. And to crown all, he loves you ; an 
old love, I suspect ; a faithful love, I’ll wager.” 

“ Ah, my poor Sireuil, repeat that. I have need 
to be sure.” 

“ Between us, dear friend, if you are not sure of it 
it is not for want of putting the candidate to the 
test ; a double test, too, — that of fire and that of 
water.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ My God ! . . . We are talking as old friends, 

are we not ? The water was Boqueservi^re. I do 
not insist ; I know nothing. But I have every reason 
to suppose that our brave Cherancy has received, 
once in his life, a fine pailful of cold water.” 

“ Ah, be silent,” said Nadia. “ What memories ! ” 

“ Let us leave out the water if the subject is dis- 
tasteful to you. But, with regard to the fire, indeed, 
if I must confess it, I really thought at Cauterets 
that your cousin and your friend were running 
straight into a fine fire.” 

“ Truly ! ” 

“ Why, my dear, you seem surprised. I declare 
to you, in Cherancy’s place, I should have completely 
lost my head. Upon my word, one would think you 
had never seen the Countess.” 

“ Ah, yes,” replied Nadia, slowly. “ I have watched 


182 


THE CHABM BEOKEH. 


her more than you think. And I have rarely seen 
so handsome a woman.” 

“ Well, do you think, for instance, that M. Paul is 
blind? Do you think he lacks seductive power? 
Combine with their mutual personal attractions the 
romantic meeting. On the one side, sadness, lone- 
liness, the pail of cold water still trickling over his 
shoulders. On the other, pity, esteem, admira- 
tion ; for Cherancy has been what one would call 
a man, you know ! That was already enough. But 
the rest. . . But Panticosa ! . . That adora- 

ble woman, who crossed streams, and precipices, who 
watched the sick man day and nigiit in a desert, 
who nursed him, who saved him ; while with your 
proud way — which I divine, and which I under- 
stand — you waited for some one to come to remove 
your widow’s veil! . . If that is not a proof, 
what do you want ? ” 

“ It is true,” replied Nadia, dreamily. 

She had still more food for thought on reading the 
letter which she received from La Pree the next day. 
It was not that she could any longer doubt the sin- 
cerity of the satisfaction manifested by her cousin. 
Only, Claire’s response ended w T ith these words : 

“lam afraid that it will be impossible for me to assist at 
your marriage. The winter promises to be very severe. I fear 
our Bordeaux climate is not mild enough for Marthe, whose 
health still demands great care. Moreover, you say yourself 
that you desire at your wedding less joy than prayers. Mine 
shall not be wanting, and will be of more value to you than the 
sight of a sad face. Will not mine be sad on that occasion, 
which will remind me of what I have suffered? My dearest 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


183 


may you be happy! After my child’s happiness, I desire yours 
the most in the world.” 

Once more — the last time in her life — Nadia dis- 
played her disposition — that of an angry, impera- 
tive and jealous woman. She took her pen and 
wrote, without reflecting, the following lines : 

“Claire, if you love that man, say so! You know what a 
secret burden I am bearing to the altar. The weight is already 
sufficiently heavy. But, if it is necessary to struggle with the 
future against others, and not only against the past but against 
myself, I shall give up the game. A word uttered by Sireuil 
and your refusal make me suspicious. I conjure you to reply. 
Do you love him? Does he love you? Is it possible, great God! 
that, without gaining my own happiness, I am on the verge of 
rendering unhappy the two beings for whom I would give my 
life?” 

The Countess wrote : 

“You are mad. That is my reply. To tel 1 you the truth, I 
am delighted to see you jealous again. I am easy now: the 
Nadia of the good old time is not dead. Since you absolutely 
desire it, I will take the place of your mother, or, rather of your 
sister, dearest— the most tender, the most faithful, the most 
devoted of sisters.” 

In the “ good old times ” Nadia, would not have 
been so easily reassured as she was by those lines, 
which seemed to make light x>f her emotion. For- 
tunately, she could not see the face of her who wrote 
in so happy a strain, nor hear her stifled sobs. Be- 
sides the actual presence sufficed; the imagination 
had no need to evoke other troubles ! What bitter- 
ness ! at the mere thought that she could lose Paul, 
a hundred times, in days gone by, her heart would 
have stood still; and now security obtained, all dan- 
ger vanished, that frozen heart refused to beat ! 


184 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


The day of the marriage was fixed. Two weeks 
before the date indicated, the Countess left hotel 
Youillemont, accompanied by her child, whose health 
seemed to be of the best. An hour later, mother and 
daughter arrived at Nadia’s, where they found 
Paul. 

Firm and resolute, like a soldier about to risk his 
life, the latter nevertheless trembled beneath Claire’s 
first glance. While Marthe almost suffocated her 
friend, and full of pleasant memories, began to prat- 
tle, of Panticosa, of Cauterets, as if they had met 
for nothing else. 

It seemed as if the two cousins had pledged their 
word not to listen to that conversation. They talked 
very loudly, God knows with what object, of the 
toilettes they were to wear on the day. The cere- 
mony was to be solemnized in the chapel of a convent 
on Rue de Sevres. 

“ What an idea ! ” said Claire. 

Nadia, lowering her voice, replied : 

“ For six months past, I have spent a great deal 
of time there. Those walls know all the secrets of 
my soul. At that altar I promised my sacrifice 
should take place ; that I should there be united to 
Paul or betrothed to God. I must keep my promise.” 

At the end of an hour, Mme. de Chalonne went 
out on pressing business. Cherency did not remain 
much longer. 

<c I will leave you Marthe,” said the Countess to 
her cousin, “ I will return for her at six o’clock.” 

“ You will return, on the contrary, to dine with 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


185 


me, Sireuil and your future cousin. I have invited 
them in your honor. Until then, this big person and 
I, will chat.” 

Marthe smiled, very much flattered, and, her 
mother gone, she seated herself near her aunt with 
the serious air of a woman of thirty. 

“ I suppose,” said Nadia, “ that you were greatly 
surprised on learning why you came here.” 

“ Why, Aunt Nadia ... a little,” replied the child 
truthfully. 

“ Are 3^ou not glad to have an uncle who already 
loves you very much ? For I saw you chatting 
together just now like old friends.” 

“ Oh ! Aunt — certainly — I shall be glad.” 

tc You are not speaking frankly, Marthe, you, who 
are usually so candid ! Have you for some reason a 
dislike to M. de Cherancy ? ” 

The little girl’s eyes sparkled, her cheeks grew 
rosy. 

“ I ! dislike him ! ” she exclaimed, clasping her 
hands.” Since Papa’s death, he is the man I love the 
most in the world.” 

On seeing that impetuosity and that enthusiasm, 
Nadia thought she had discovered in her niece one 
of those childish passions of which she, too, had been 
guilty at the same age. 

“ Come ! sit upon my knee,” said she, “ and con- 
fide in me. Since when has your love for M. de 
Cherancy been so great ? ” 

“ Since I saw him so ill, and above all since—” 


186 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ Come ! speak ! I was once a little girl like you. 
You can tell me all.” 

“ Since I saw him cry one night at Panticosa.” 

“ Really ! And why did he cry ? 

“Because Uncle Fresnel was dead.” 

“Ah!” said Nadia, very attentive. “Tell me 
about that.” 

“ One evening, after dinner, I was so tired from 
having run about the mountains that I fell asleep in 
an arm-chair. Suddenly I awoke, and I heard mamma 
say : 4 Nadia is a widow.’ ” 

“And then?” 

“Then I did not stir, I was to much surprised. 
Nor did M. de Cherancy stir. He seemed as much 
surprised as I was.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ He said : ‘ Yery well, I shall go away.’ But he 
bent his head and two large tears rolled down his 
cheeks.” 

Nadia closed her eyes, started and remained silent 
a few moments. Then, in a voice which was very 
much changed, she asked 

“ And your mother ? ” 

“ Mamma did not cry. But she wanted to. She 
said nothing, and restrained her tears with all her 
might.” 

“ You did not then ask what caused them both so 
much pain ? 

“Oh, no! Aunt Nadia. It was very easy to 
understand. They were sorry because Uncle Fres- 
nel was dead.” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


187 


Nadia gasped. The shock was great. 

Instead of an hour’s chat with an amusing child, 
she made a discovery which would change her entire 
life. However, she felt some scruples as to continu- 
ing that dangerous examination. What had the 
child discovered? What grave secret had she sur- 
prised? Was it not her duty to allow to rest for- 
ever in that pure mind certain souvenirs calculated 
perhaps to trouble filial love ? But, no ! she must 
know all, and, too, Nadia knew Marthe’s mother. 
Her actions, her words, her very thoughts, could all 
be exposed to the light of day. 

“Did they weep long?” asked Mme. Fresnel, 
clasping her niece in her arms with strange ardor. 
“ Tell me all.” 

“I have told you all, -Aunt Nadia. Seeing that 
my eyes were open, mamma touched my shoulder 
to thoroughly arouse me, and took me away to say 
my prayers and to put me to bed. 

“ And the next day ? ” 

“ The next day we took a walk together, and 
when we returned, M. de Cherancy bade me adieu. 
That evening I dined all alone with mamma. As 
for him, the following day, early, he left.” 

“Without seeing your mother or you again?” 

“ It was too early. But I must tell you one thing 
which mamma does not know. I was not asleep, 
for I was very sad. M. de Cherancy is so good ! 
He seemed to have so much trouble ! Well, on hear- 
ing the horses’ hoofs, I rose softly and opened the 
shutters a little bit. My nurse was not awake. I 


188 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


could then see him once more. He entered the car- 
riage, then he alighted again in order to embrace 
Bramatuero .” . . . 

“ Who is Bramatuero f ” 

“ A large dog that walked with us, and that loves 
me very much ; he is at La Pree. Mamma bought 
him the day of the departure of — ” 

“ Did you ask her to buy him ? ” 

“ Ho. It was her idea.” 

“Ah! my poor Claire,” thought Hadia. “You 
did as your daughter. You rose softly, and you 
saw the kiss given to the dog ! ” 

The niece was still in her aunt’s arms, but they no 
longer spoke ; the story was ended. In the tiny 
salon, faintly lighted by the dying day and by the 
fire, a deep silence reigned. Ho one could have read 
what was passing in Hadia’s mind, for she had her 
face hidden in the little one’s dark curls. But the 
child could hear her aunt’s heart throb with strange 
violence. 

Suddenly Marthe felt herself almost suffocated in 
a desperate embrace. Upon her forehead was 
pressed a kiss by two burning lips which murmured : 

“ Dear child, dear angel of truth, of purity, of in- 
nocence ! Could you only remain as you are to-day 
— as I was once ! ” 

With a sort of fear which paralyzed her, Marthe 
witnessed a storm of tears and sobs which she would 
never forget in her life. On the convulsively agi- 
tated breast of the poor woman, who from that time 
forth had no one but God, the child’s body was rocked 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


189 


like a frail barque on the waves agitated by a 
tempest. 

That for which Nadia wept at that moment was 
something more than a love, it was love, or in other 
words life , for “ Love is a woman’s whole existence.” 

For long months her tears had flowed silently on 
her own dead heart, on that heart which marriage 
was to receive on the morrow, as the coflin covered 
with roses receives a beloved form, carefulty em- 
balmed. She had believed that the remainder of 
her life would be spent in watching tenderly over 
the remains of her youth. But, suddenly the words 
of a child made it clear to her that she must renounce 
even that slight happiness, must separate herself 
from the last memory of her past, short-lived joy. 

The storm did not last long. Mme. de Chalonne 
might return at any moment. 

Once more Nadia controlled herself. For her 
henceforth, combats were ended, the hour of her 
final retreat rung. Soon she spoke. 

“ Marthe,” said she, “ when your mother returns, 
do not tell her what has just occurred.” 

u Oh, Aunt Nadia, I will obey you in everything. 
But, for Heaven’s sake do not cry any more!” 

“ Rest assured, my darling. No human being shall 
see me weep again,” 


XXL 

Countess de Chalonne returned several minutes 
before the dinner hour. 

“Not dressed?” said she to her cousin, whom she 
found reclining in an easy chair by the fire-place, 
with Marthe still upon her knees. “ I have changed 
my dress. Fie, you idle woman ! One might think 
it was you who had been traveling, and I — ” 

“ That you were going to be married. Indeed, you 
are young, stylish and pretty, my Clairon. How can 
any one vie with you ? I shall not try to, but will 
keep on my woolen gown. So much the worse for 
me if my guests take you for the bride.” 

“ My daughter did not weary you ? ” 

“ Certainly not. We have become great friends. 
You will not give me your daughter ? ” 

u Oh ! my treasure ! ” cried Claire, embracing the 
child who had left her aunt’s lap. 

“ You greedy person ! ” said Nadia. “ You wish 
to keep all for yourself.” 

At that moment Paul entered. The glance with 
which his fiancee received him, caused him, on the 
threshhold, inexplicable anxiety. She had upon her 
face the same expression of dejection, of heart-broken 
affection, of adieu, which he had seen upon it on the 
day when she sobbed at his feet on the floor, one 
year before. 

The remembrance of that hour took possession of 
him, but only from the generous and noble side. 

190 


THE CHARM BROKEM. 


191 


Once again he swore to reanimate, to comfort that 
bruised heart. He kissed the hand which Nadia 
offered him and murmured so that she alone could 
hear him : 

“Why are you sad? Do we not belong to one 
another forever?” 

She gazed at him several seconds without speak- 
ing. 

“Ah ! ” said she at length. “You have earned the 
reward which will be yours ! ” 

In his turn, Lucien Sireuil arrived ; almost at once 
they seated themselves at the table. The lawyer 
was hungry and in a good humor. 

At dessert he rose, and according to an old cus- 
tom, drank the health of the future husband and 
wife. Cherancy and the Countess could not help 
exchanging glances, for that toast reminded them 
of another ; that other breakfast on the border of 
the streamlet, limpid and musical then, at that hour 
mournful and icy, like their souls. 

Nadia’s voice, when she responded, had strange 
vibrations which made everyone start. 

“ Dear friends, the only ones I possess here below, 
I love you all tenderly. Never, never forget this 
little table around which we have assembled and 
these words which I have often repeated to myself 
during the past months : of all the treasures on 
earth those of the heart are the most difficult to keep. 
May those among us, who possess them, watch well 
over them ! Once lost. . . .” 

Her voice began to tremble, and, prudently, she 


192 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


ceased. She rose : her guests followed her to the 
salon, and everyone observed that her hand was 
unsteady as she poured the coffee into the cups. At 
her suggestion, the gentlemen lighted cigarettes. 
She took one herself. 

“ Yon know I am half Bussian,” said she, apolo- 
getically. “Sometimes” — and her eyes sought 
those of Paul — “ I have been too much a Bussian. 
But experience has cured me. Give me a light, 
friend, do not chide me. I swear to you this shall 
be my last cigarette.” 

Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed, her lips 
were like cherries. Barely did she look so beauti- 
ful. Everyone wondered at the cause of that fever- 
ish excitement and fixed upon her anxious glances. 
She seemed unable to rest in one spot, and walked 
nervously about the small salon, inhaling the per- 
fumed smoke of the latakie. Before the picture 
painted by Cherancy, which represented her asleep 
in the railroad carriage, she made a long pause and 
appeared to be lost in a thought singularly sweet. 

Turning around she said, suddenly : 

“ My dear Sireuil, I am going to make you a pres- 
ent. I am going to give you the picture of a friend, 
and the work of a clever man, who will soon have 
something better to do than to paint. He deserves 
something higher with such a heart.” 

“ I shall not accept your gift,” responded Sireuil. 
“Never in my life! Do you wish to get me into 
your husband’s bad graces from the very first day ? ” 

“Best assured. I will undertake to make him 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


193 


listen to reason. To-morrow the picture shall be at 
your house. It shall never leave there, shall it ? 
My dear Paul, yourself assure our friend that I have 
your approbation.” 

Paul advanced to Mme. Fresnel and kissed her 
hand. “To-day and forever, what you do will be 
well done,” said he. 

“ Good ! ” replied Nadia, without glancing at him. 
“Those are words of which I shall remind you 
before long.” 

In the meantime Marthe’s nurse came to take her 
young mistress away ; as the child, distributing her 
kisses, reached to her aunt, the latter drew her 
towards her, and seating herself in an easy chair, 
once more took the child upon her knees. 

“ Good-night ! ” said she. “ Good-night, my darl- 
ing ! good-night, for this night and for all those of 
your life ! Blessed angel, go to sleep ! Sleep is so 
good ! . . . May God reward you for what you 

have done to-day ; may He be praised ! Kiss me, 
dearest, and may your mother give you kisses for 
many, many years ! ” 

She pressed to her bosom the child, who stifled 
her sobs, caused by the inexplicable emotion of 
those words, which seemed to imply a farewell. 
The silence of death reigned in the room. 

“ Now, go ; ” said Nadia. “ It is time for little 
girls to be in bed.” , 

“Zounds! ” muttered Lucien Sireuil, when Marthe 
had disappeared. “He who could see us at this 


194 


THE CHARM BROKEN - . 


moment, would not think that we had come from a 
betrothal dinner.” 

“ Why ? ” replied Mme. Fresnel. “ Can one not 
become engaged except with shouts of laughter ? I 
should very much like to see you there, Sir Evergay ? 

“ Oh, as for me, you will never see me there, thank 
God.” I have seen too much of charming persons 
sobbing in the sacristy in white veils, or in my 
study in pink bonnets. It almost seems as if it were 
with conjugal happiness as it is with the teeth : we 
weep when they come, we weep when they go.” 

“ Be silent, miserable skeptic ! Cross-grained replies 
seem to be a failing of yours ! Three years ago, in 
this same place, you maintained that unless there 
was a husband or a convent for protection, all 
women were vagabonds : To-day I have my choice, 
you will agree with me ! ” 

Since the conclusion of the meal, the Countess had 
gazed at her cousin in astonishment, wondering if 
Nadia had not gone mad. 

Paul, not less surprised, glanced alternately at the 
two women. The mistress of the house thought it 
was time to put an end to that uneasiness. 

“Claire,” said she, “you spent the night in a 
coach. I am going to send you home. Our friend, 
Sireuil, will escort you to your carriage. Will you 
not, dear support of widows? Come to see me 
to-morrow morning. I shall have need of your 
advice. My dear Paul, I shall detain you ten min- 
utes. Good-night, Clairon.” 


THE CHARM BROKEH. 


195 


Mme. de Chalonne rose, obeying like an automa- 
ton. 

“ At what time shall I come to-morrow ? ” she 
asked. 

“ I will drop you a line. Au revoir. Kiss me, 
sister.” 

When Nadia was at length alone with her 
betrothed, she advanced towards him, and, looking 
him in the face, she asked abruptly : 

“ Paul, are you pleased to marry me ? ” 

“Pleased, grateful and proud,” said he, emphasiz- 
ing each word. 

“Do you come to me without any regret, with- 
out any memories which trouble you?” 

“ I have forgotten all I should forget. I remem- 
ber all that I should remember, and that is saying a 
great deal, Nadia. But what ails you? You are 
very odd this evening, very much agitated.” 

“ I think you will be, too, my friend, when I have 
told you the news : Claire de Chalonne is going to 
be married again ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed in horror. “ It is — ” 

He paused, restrained by a feeling of valor. 

“ It is indeed news,” he added. 

Then he compressed his lips, wondering how long 
it would be before he could go out and breathe 
freely alone in the solitude of the deserted boule- 
vard. Nadia resumed, her eyes still fixed on Paul : 

“ You do not ask me the name ; you are not 
curious. She is going to marry the man she has 
loved a long time.” 


196 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


“ All ! whom she has loved a long time ? ” repeated 
Paul like an echo. 

“ She loved someone ; you knew it ?” 

“I fancied so several times. But she concealed 
her love as if it were a crime.. Poor Claire ! poor 
Paul! you would both rather have died than have 
said a word. Ah ! but honor is a fine thing ! to 
urge that point is dangerous. By dint of being 
honest you, she and I deceived one another like 
thieves at a fair.” 

“ Nadia ! ” cried Cherancy. “ Why do you try to 
entrap me ? Enough of this ! Become my wife and 
let us live far from stormy emotions ! ” 

“ I came very near committing that madness ! 
Dear blinded man, have you not seen that in my 
heart love is dead ? ” 

As he made a gesture of dolorous surprise, she 
continued with a smile : 

“ Ingrate ! Yes, love is dead ! I know this : it was 
I who killed it, killed it by a word ! There are terrible, 
irreparable words. And then, love, the most beau- 
tiful thing in this world, is also the most fragile. 
Occasionally in the icy silence of a winter’s night you 
have heard the crisp sound of a crystal vase broken 
by a single breath of cold air. I, at a certain hour, 
heard the sound of our love breaking. The beautiful 
vase is no longer whole ; the charm is broken, and it 
was all my fault. The past is dead, as dead as 
Edmond de Roqueserviere. Now listen to that name 
without anger and without blasphemy. Pardon him, 
Paul.” 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


197 


“ No ! ” replied he, shaking his head. “ If he had 
not risen between you and me, we should now be 
perfectly happy.” 

“ You shall be ! Give me your hand : accept the 
happiness I offer you : marry Claire. You said to 
me just now : Whatever you do will be well-done.” 

“ No ! Supposing that I love Countess de Cha- 
lonne ! . . ” 

“ Supposing ! Poor friend ! If you could have seen 
your face when I told you of her intended marriage.” 

“ Cruel woman ! You will drive me mad ! But, if 
I were unfortunate enough to love your cousin, it 
would be a double madness. She does not love 
me ! ” 

“ She does not love you ! Are you then so blind 
that you can not see that which Marthe has instinc- 
tively divined ? ” 

“Well,, it does not matter. You are advising a 
cowardly piece of selfishness. With it all, you do 
not speak of your future.” 

“ Ask Claire to show you my letters ! Ask another 
woman, a religious woman, who will soon call me 
‘ daughter,’ whose cell I see almost daily with long- 
ing ! Ask her if, at certain times, I did not wish to 
close to you that door which I shall close to- 
morrow ! ” 

“Never! ” exclaimed Paul, clasping in his arms 
the woman he had loved so long. “ Come, my darl- 
ing, my wife. Let us forget this terrible evening. 
The clouds will pass away. Life is before us. We 
shall be happy, you shall see ! ” 


198 


THE CHARM BROKEN. 


Nadia, as if lulled to sleep, did not resist his 
embrace. “Ah, you are noble!” said she. “To- 
morrow I will try to do penance for having loved 
you. To-day I can not. You give me the adieux 
I want. Yes, my Paul, I want them this minute ! 
But you see that all is ended. I am in your arms ; 
I have my head upon your dear shoulder; I feel 
your tears upon my cheek ; and I say to you, No ! ” 
She remained thus, wrapped in a reverie, reviewing 
in her mind the last five years, from a certain night 
in a railroad carriage up to her conversation with 
little Martha by the fireside, where the brands still 
burned. She compared the joys experienced with 
the tortures, and taken altogether, she would not 
have lived her life over again. 

“ Now,” she sighed, disengaging herself gently, 
“ it is time to finish our last evening. How many 
times, on hearing the heavy door of my house close 
upon you, on listening to your footsteps dying away 
in the night, how many times have I said : 6 My God, 
may nothing happen to my beloved on his way ! ’ 
This evening, my friend, I am not uneasy about you. 
You have Claire.” 

“ Oh ! ” moaned Paul. “ It seems as if I were at 
your death-bed ! ” 

“ Yery far from that. You are taking leave of a 
poor weary woman, who is going to rest now. My 
friend ! my dear Paul ! listen to me now. Do not 
leave me with the belief that I have sacrificed myself 
for you. I know of what your devotion is capable, 
but it would not have made amends for what has 


THE CHARM BR0KEH. 


199 


been. I swear to you this shall be the last unkind 
word you will hear from Nadia. I swear that you 
could not have made me as happy as I am going to 
be.” 

They separated. Once again, the closing of the 
heavy door shook the room. Once again, from 
behind her curtain, Nadia watched Paul de Cherancy 
disappear. She had the last and cruel happiness of 
seeing him depart slowly, his handkerchief to his 
eyes, weeping bitter tears. 

******* 

In a small but charming villa situated in a wild cor- 
ner on the shores of the Dordagne between Bergerac 
and Lalinde, new tenants settled quietly one spring. 
The Cherancys spent two-thirds of the year in that 
pretty nook. The Salon called them to Paris during 
the months of April and of May, for the artist was 
more than ever faithful to his art. Autumn 
belonged to La Pree. 

The old Chalonnes received with open arms, not 
only their grandchild, Marthe, the future mistress of 
the place, but also the latter’s tiny brother, the coun- 
terpart of his mother. 

During the trips to Paris, Marthe visited several 
times a week “ Mother Claire-Marie-Pauline,” whom 
she always called “ Aunt Nadia.” Mile, de Cha- 
lonne had grown a great deal, for her mother would 
not hear her second marriage spoken of until her 
cousin’s final vows were taken. 

She seemed, too, to wish to make amends for 
lost time. Those who once had considered her cold 


200 


THE CHARM BROKEK. 


would scarcely have known her. For she made 
amends in the proud happiness of her passion, for 
the long years which had passed without love, for 
the months during which she had to conceal her 
love. 

Paul de Cherancy often escorted “ his sister-in- 
law” to the convent. His short interviews with 
the nun neither embarrassed nor made them sad, 
for Nadia was a godly as well as a happy woman. 

Of all the personages in this story, Bramatuero 
alone regretted, the past. He missed the snows of 
the long winters at Panticosa, the too relaxing 
climate of La Pree did not agree with his moun- 
taineer’s lungs. Old, surly, languid, less petted, the 
poor animal discovered, as do so many human beings, 
that the happiness of some here below is made up of 
the unhappiness of others. 


THE END. 


WAS IT THE WOMANS 
FAULT? 


By Saville. 12M0. Paper Cover. Illus- 
trated. 


“Is -a tale of fiery passion, unbounded villainy and 
devoted love. Through all the dark mazes of the tale, 
one of the leading characters is a rich man who 
bestows charity only at a price ; we think the reader 
will conclude that it was not the woman’s fault.” — 
Ohio State Journal. 

“ It is a most absorbingly interesting volume, and 
written with the fervency of Dickens.” — The North- 
west News. 

“The story is told in an exceedingly pleasing 
manner. No one can pick up the novel and regret 
having read it through to ascertain if it was the 
woman’s fault.” — The San Francisco Morning Call. 

“ A bit sensational, but a charming society novel 
of 426 pages.” — Davenport Democrat. 

DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO., Publishers, 

CHICAGO. 


BY 




ISABEL PALLEN SMITH 


12 mo. Paper Cover. 


Illustrated 


“ Illustrated and printed elegantly.” — Spirit of the Times. 

“What Woman Wouldn’t is an entrancing story. In tone it is 
pure and in language choice.” — Lincoln Daily Call. 

“ Coujd only have been written by a woman who understands 
women.” — Nebraska Stale Journal. 

“ It is decidedly of the French school, following closely in the 
footsteps of the Balzac and tinged with the coloring of the author’s 
Southern imagination. The plot is well woven, carrying the interest 
of the reader to the last chapter, scenes admirably described and 
characters true to life; in fact, too true, for Mrs. Smith has portrayed 
scenes which, according to our American ideas, would have been 
better left to the imagination.” — Washington Free Press. 

“It is a picture, with some bold and masterly touches, of the 
terrible vengeance dealt out by a wronged wife upon the destroyer of 
her character and happiness. * * The characters are such as one 

may find in Washington society life, and their truthfulness may be 
judged from the fact that the author is a lady occupying one of the 
highest positions that a women can hold in the employ of the 
Government. 

Mrs. Isabel Pallen Smith, the author, is the youngest child of 
the late Dr. M. M. Pallen, who was for twenty-four years one of the 
leading physicians of St. Louis.” — St. Louis Republic. 


For Sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers or will be sent by 
the Publishers on receipt of price. 

DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. Publishers 


CHICAO-O. 








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